* 


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in  2015 


https://archive.org/details/recollectionsofj00barr_0 


JONAH  BARRINGTON 


* c 


Recollections  of 
Jonah  Barrington 


WITH  AN  INTRODUCTION 
BY  GEORGE  BIRMINGHAM 


BOSTON  COLLEGE  LIBRARY 
CHESTNUT  111LL,  MASS. 


NEW  YORK: 

FREDERICK  A.  STOKES  COMPANY 
PUBLISHERS 


Printed  by  The 
Educational  Company 
oe  Ireland  Limited 
at  The  Talbot  Press 
Dublin 


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TklWH-'S 
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CONTENTS 


Chap. 

Page 

1 

My  Family  Connexions 

1 

2 

Elizabeth  Fitzgerald 

18 

3 

Irish  Gentry  and  their  Retainers 

...  29 

4 

My  Education 

...  34 

5 

Irish  Dissipation  in  1778  ... 

...  43 

6 

My  Brother’s  Hunting  Lodge 

...  51 

7 

Choice  of  Profession 

...  58 

8 

Murder  of  Captain  O’Flaherty 

...  63 

9 

Adoption  of  the  Law 

74 

10 

Irish  Beauties 

79 

11 

Patricians  and  Plebians 

...  90 

12 

Irish  Inns 

...  97 

13 

Fatal  Duel  of  my  Brother  ... 

...  101 

14 

Entrance  into  Parliament  ... 

...  112 

15 

Singular  Customs  in  the  Irish  Parliament 

...  121 

16 

The  Seven  Baronets 

...  128 

17 

Entrance  into  Office 

...  139 

18 

Dr.  Achmet  Borumborad  ... 

...  145 

CONTENTS 


,vi. 


Chap. 

Page 

19 

Aldermen  of  Skinner’s  Alley 

...  154 

20 

Procession  of  the  Trades 

...  161 

21 

Irish  Rebellion 

...  166 

22 

Wolfe  Tone 

...  173 

23 

Dublin  Election  ... 

...  177 

24 

Election  for  County  Wexford 

...  187 

25 

Wedded  Life 

...  195 

26 

Duke  of  Wellington  and  Marquess  of  London- 

derry 

...  201 

27 

Lord  Norbury 

...  210 

28 

Henr}^  Grattan 

...  218 

29 

Lord  Aldborough 

...  227 

30 

John  Philpot  Curran 

...  231 

31 

The  Law  of  Libel 

...  238 

32 

Pulpit,  Bar,  and  Parliamentary  Eloquence  ...  253 

33 

Queen  Caroline 

...  257 

34 

Anecdotes  of  Irish  Judges 

...  261 

35 

The  Fire  Eaters  ...  ...  . 

...  278 

36 

Duelling  Extraordinary 

...  296 

37 

Hamilton  Rowan  and  the  Bar 

...  315 

38 

Father  O’Leary  ... 

...  322 

39 

Death  of  Lord  Rossmore  ... 

...  326 

40 

Theatrical  Recollections 

...  335 

41 

Mrs.  Jordan 

...  346 

42 

Mrs.  Jordan  in  France 

...  365 

CONTENTS  vii. 

Chap.  Page 

43  Scenes  at  Havre  de  Grace  ...  ...  373 

44  Commencement  of  the  Hundred  Days  ...  388 

45  The  English  in  Paris  ...  ...  ...  398 

46  Inauguration  of  the  Emperor  ...  ...  406 

47  Promulgation  of  the  Constitution  ...  ...  422 

48  East  Days  of  the  Imperial  Government  ...  432 

49  Detention  at  Villette  ...  ...  ...  443 

50  Projected  Escape  of  Napoleon  ...  ...  450 

51  Battles  of  Sevres  and  Issy  ...  ...  456 

52  Capitulation  of  Paris  ...  ...  ...  465 

53  The  Catacombs  and  Pere  La  Chaise  ...  471 

53  Pedigree  Hunting  ...  ...  ...  474 


INTRODUCTION. 


The  Ireland  of  Charles  Lever  ! Until  just  the  other  day 
this  was  the  only  Ireland  which  Englishmen  knew.  It 
is  still  an  Ireland  which  all  Englishmen  love,  pity,  and 
scorn  ; which  Irish  patriots  of  the  sterner  sort  scorn  with- 
out pity,  but  in  their  inmost  hearts  must  love  a little  too. 
It  is  an  Ireland  of  gay  irresponsibility,  of  heavy  drinking 
and  good  fellowship,  of  sport  and  sympathy  with  the 
sporting  side  of  lawlessness,  of  nimble  wit  and  frivolous 
love-making,  of  courage,  honour,  hard  fighting  and  hard 
riding,  of  poverty  turned  into  a jest.  Its  story  is  a tragedy 
in  which  the  actors  cut  capers  and  turn  somersaults,  lest 
they  should  be  discovered  in  the  high  heroic  mood  or 
moved  to  despicable  tears. 

Englishmen  saw  the  capers  and  rejoiced  in  them.  Irish- 
men of  the  sterner  kind  saw  the  same  capers  and  resented 
them.  For  the  Englishman  we  Irish  were  cast  for  the 
part  of  the  clown  in  the  circus  of  the  world.  Others, 
Germans,  Frenchmen,  the  English  themselves,  took  all 
the  finer  parts,  came  before  the  audience  (the  angels  are 
the  audience  in  this  case)  as  learned  pigs  of  great  solemnity, 
moving  wonder  and  admiration — ladies  in  fluffy  skirts, 
who  leaped  delightfully  through  hoops,  or  dashing  Dick 

ix. 


x. 


BARRINGTON  S RECOLLECTIONS. 


Turpins  riding  valorously.  It  was  as  Dick  Turpin  chiefly 
that  the  Englishman  saw  himself.  We  clowned  and  they 
kept  us  at  it.  No  wonder  we  resented  it  occasionally. 
No  wonder  there  has  been  a series  of  protests  against  the 
literary  tradition  of  the  capering  Irishman.  Thomas 
Moore,  I suppose,  made  such  a protest  when  he  adapted 
Irish  music  to  the  piano  and  touched  the  hearts  of  our 
great-grandmothers,  girls  in  white  frocks  at  the  time,  with 
sugary  patriotism,  subduing  the  glaring  lights  of  rebel 
nationalism  to  drawing-room  use  with  nice  pink  shades. 
Thomas  Davis  and  the  ardent  spirits  of  Young  Ireland 
made  their  protest  in  fiercely  rhetorical  verse,  and  the 
savage  prose  of  John  Mitchel,  the  strongest  prose  written 
in  Ireland  since  the  days  of  Swift.  Yeats,  Synge,  and  the 
writers  of  our  neo-Celtic  school  made  their  protest.  They 
saw  us,  and  half  persuaded  cultured  England  to  see  us, 
as  a long  procession  of  fate-driven  peasants  with  sorrowful 
eyes,  behind  whose  shadowy  figures  hover  vast,  malignant 
powers,  spirits  of  cloudy  postry  and  tragical  romance. 
Mr.  Bernard  Shaw,  an  Irishman,  turned  fierce  by  long 
residence  in  England,  made  his  protest.  He  set  up  the 
tattered  figure  of  Tim  Haffigan,  the  caricature  of  a carica- 
ture, a creature  as  like  Lever's  Irishmen  as  the  woman 
of  the  streets  is  like  a laughing  girl.  He  slew  Tim  Haffigan 
with  the  sharp  sword  of  his  wit  ; but  the  literary  tradition 
of  the  gay  Irishman  survives. 

Not  only  the  world  outside,  the  world  of  Englishmen 
but  we  ourselves  still  recognise  in  Charles  O'Malley,  in 
Frank  Webber,  Mickey  Free,  and  Baby  Blake,  true  children 
of  our  race  ; remembering  them  when  we  are  tempted  to 


INTRODUCTION. 


XI. 


prance,  high-stepping  into  the  grandiose  or  to  shout  aloud  : 

The  West’s  awake,  the  West’s  awake  ! 

Sing  Oh  ! hurrah  ! let  England  quake  ! 

Father  O’Flynn  remains  for  the  world  the  typical  Irish 
priest,  though  he  bears  little  resemblance  to  the  fighting 
curates  of  the  Land  League  days,  and  hardly  more  to  John 
Banim’s  sentimentalised  “ Soggarth  Aroon.”  Miss 
Somerville  and  Miss  Ross  are  true  followers  of  the  Lever 
tradition,  but  Flurry  Knox  and  old  Mrs.  Knox,  of  Aussolas, 
and  Bobbie  Bennett,  are  genuine  Irish  ; and  there  is  not 
one  of  us  who  does  not  recognise  Slipper  as  near  kin  to  some 
friend  of  our  own. 

The  fact  is,  that  in  spite  of  the  protests,  in  spite  of  the 
ignorant  caricatures  which  have  well  deserved  the  title 
of  “ Stage  Irishman,”  this  type  which  Lever  popularised 
is  an  authentic  presentation  of  what  we  are.  It  corresponds 
to  a reality  ; comes,  perhaps,  nearer  to  common  Irish  life 
than  anything  yet  given  us  by  poets,  rhetoricians,  or  politi- 
cians. And  those  who  look  deepest  see  that  the  writers 
who  present  these  Irishmen  of  the  Lever  tradition  are 
themselves  something  more  than  buffoons.  They  laugh, 
and  we  laugh  at  or  with  them  ; but  we  know  that  they 
laugh  with  deliberate  intention,  because  the  alternative  to 
laughter  in  their  case  is  tears.  They  clown,  because  if 
they  did  not  there  would  be  nothing  for  them  except  to  sit 
down  and  wring  their  hands  helplessly.  Under  all  the 
noisy  capering  and  rattling  wit  of  these  Lever  Irishmen, 
there  sounds  a note,  almost  always  audible  to  anyone  with 
an  ear  for  literature,  of  sorrowful  tenderness.  The  works 
of  these  authors  is  the  literature  of  men  with  thoughts 


XII. 


Barrington’s  recollections. 


perhaps  too  deep,  certainly  too  intimately  private  for  mere 
tears. 

It  is  Sir  Jonah  Barrington  who  gives  us  the  first  fairly 
complete  and  authentic  portrait  of  the  rollicking  Irishmen 
of  later  literary  tradition.  I should  be  sorry  to  quote 
Barrington  as  a reliable  authority  for  any  historical  fact 
of  the  cold,  stark  kind  which  I wished  to  establish. 
Barrington  had  a lively  imagination  and  a taste  for  the 
picturesque,  qualities  absolutely  fatal  to  the  serious  historian. 
He  was  the  victim,  moreover,  of  prejudices  of  the  most 
vigorous  kind.  His  “ Rise  and  Fall  of  the  Irish  Nation  ” 
is  probably  as  interesting,  and  certainly  as  untrustworthy, 
as  any  history  book  ever  written.  His  “ Personal  Sketches 
and  Recollections  ” are,  we  must  suppose,  the  product 
of  a cheery  mind  sporting  with  facts.  But  Barrington 
has  this  merit.  He  gives  us  a picture,  not  a photograph, 
of  Irish  society  in  his  own  day.  We  get  the  tone,  the 
colour  of  the  men  about  whom  he  writes.  We  gain,  as  we 
read  him,  queer  glimpses  of  an  extraordinary  society. 
I should  not  like  to  pin  my  faith  to  the  accuracy  of  the 
details  which  Barrington  gives  of  the  New  Year’s  debauch 
in  the  cottage  of  old  Quin,  the  Huntsman,  though  names 
and  dates  are  given  with  the  utmost  precision  ; but  I have 
not  the  slightest  doubt  that  there  were  “ hard  goers,” 
like  the  author’s  two  brothers,  like  Jemmy  Moffit  and  the 
rest  of  them,  to  be  found  in  every  county  in  Ireland  in 
1778.  Have  we  not  good  contemporary  evidence  that 
Irish  gentlemen  in  those  days  drank,  swaggered,  and 
behaved  like  swine,  precisely  as  Barrington  represents 
them  ? They  left  little  literature  behind  them,  those 


INTRODUCTION. 


• Xlll. 


country  gentlemen  of  the  18th  century,  but  certain  drinking 
songs  of  theirs  survive,  songs  by  no  means  without  merit 
from  a literary  point  of  view.  Only  a society  some- 
thing like  that  which  Barrington  describes  could  have 
produced  “ Bumpers,  Squire  Jones,”  and  promoted  the 
man  who  wrote  it  to  high  legal  dignity. 

Ye  good  fellows  all, 

Who  love  to  be  told  where  good  claret's  in  store, 

Attend  to  the  call 

Of  one  who's  ne'er  frightened, 

But  greatly  delighted, 

With  six  bottles  more  : 

Be  sure  you  don't  pass 
The  good  house  Money -glass, 

Which  the  jolly  red  god  so  peculiarly  owns  ; 

‘Twill  well  suit  your  humour, 

For  pray  what  would  you  more 
Than  mirth,  with  good  claret,  and  bumpers,  Squire  Jones. 


Ye  poets,  who  write, 

And  brag  of  your  drinking  famed  Helicon’s  brook 
Though  all  you  get  by’t 
Is  a dinner  oft-times, 

In  reward  of  your  rhymes, 

With  Humphrey  the  Duke  : 

Learn  Bacchus  to  follow, 

And  quit  your  Apollo, 

Forsake  all  the  Muses,  those  senseless  old  crones  ; 

Our  jingling  of  glasses, 

Your  rhyming  surpasses, 

When  crowned  with  good  claret,  and  bumpers,  Squire  Jon:s. 


Ye  clergy  so  wise, 

Who  myst’ries  profound  can  demonstrate  most  clear, 
How  worthy  to  rise  ! 

You  preach  once  a week, 

But  your  tithes  never  seek 
Above  once  in  a year  : 

Come  here  without  failing, 

And  leave  off  your  railing 
'Gainst  bishops  providing  for  dull  stupid  drones : 

Says  the  text  so  divine, 

“What  is  life  without  wine  ? '' 

Then  away  with  the  claret — a bumper,  Squire  Jones. 


XIV. 


Barrington’s  recollections. 


Ye  lawyers  so  just, 

Be  the  cause  what  it  will,  who  so  learnedly  plead, 

How  worthy  of  trust  ! 

Ye  know  black  from  white, 

Yet  prefer  wrong  to  right 
As  you  chance  to  be  fee’d  ; 

Leave  musty  reports, 

And  forsake  the  King’s  courts, 

Where  dulness  and  discord  have  set  up  their  thrones  ; 

Bum  Salkeld  and  Ventris, 

With  all  your  damned  Entries, 

Away  wdth  the  claret — a bumper,  Squire  Jones. 

“ The  Rakes  of  Mallow,”  a jingle  far  inferior  to  the  song 
just  quoted,  is  another  evidence  of  the  substantial  truth 
of  Barrington’s  picture  of  the  upper  classes  of  Irish  society. 
We  need  not  suppose  that  Barrington  exaggerated  the 
bacchanalian  recklessness  of  the  men  who  described  them- 
selves thus  : 

Beauing,  belling,  dancing,  drinking, 

Breaking  windows,  damning,  sinlang,* 

Ever  raking,  never  thinking — 

Live  the  rakes  of  Mallow. 

Spending  faster  than  it  comes, 

Beating  waiters,  bailiffs,  duns, 

Bacchus’  true  begotton  sons — 

Live  the  rakes  of  Mallow, 

Living  short  but  merry  lives  ; 

Going  where  the  devil  drives  ; 

Having  sweethearts  but  no  wives — ■ 

Live  the  rakes  of  Mallow. 

And  the  same  spirit  of  reckless  defiance  of  God,  man,  and 
common  decency  was  prevalent  among  the  lower  classes. 
There  is  an  18th  century  Dublin  street  song — “ The 
Night  before  Larry  was  Stretched  ” — which  is  inspired 
with  a grim,  blasphemous  humour,  likely  to  shock  very 
severely  the  cultured  sentimentalist  who  has  fallen  in  love 
with  the  dear,  dark  head  of  Kathleen  Ni  Houlihan.  The 

* Sinking  an  opponent  lower  than  hell. 


INTRODUCTION. 


XV. 


plain  fact  is  that  Ireland  in  Barrington’s  time  was  as  far 
as  possible  from  being  an  island  of  Saints  and  Scholars. 

But  we  should  be  wrong  if  we  denied  the  claim  of  these 
swaggering  drunken  Irish  gentlemen  and  their  dependents 
to  some  fine  qualities.  They  were,  for  instance,  good 
fighters.  Duelling  was  common.  The  custom  was  bar- 
barous and  wholly  irrational.  We  should  now  consider 
it  monstrous,  and  it  always  was  monstrous,  that  a man 
should  be  forced  by  the  code  of  honour  prevalent  among 
gentlemen  to  place  his  life  at  the  mercy  of  any  swash- 
buckler who  chanced  to  possess  unusual  skill  with  the 
pistol.  But  Sir  Lucius  O’Trigger,  ridiculous  as  he  is, 
stands  out  as  a finer  figure  than  poor  Bob  Acres,  just  because 
his  courage  did  not  ooze  out  of  his  finger-tips  at  the  mention 
of  pistols  and  swords.  And  Sir  Lucius  O’Trigger,  though 
a caricature,  stands  for  a type  which  really  existed  in  Ireland 
in  those  days.  Fighting  Fitzgerald  was  a man  who  owed 
his  long  immunity  from  punishment  largely  to  his  relation- 
ship to  the  Earl  of  Bristol,  the  most  picturesque  and  dis- 
reputable of  Irish  bishops.  He  must  have  been  something 
like  Sir  Lucius  O’Trigger,  though  rather  a finer  gentleman 
and  rather  more  reckless.  The  fighting  squires  of  County 
Galway,  who  were  sent  to  challenge  Fitzgerald,  must  have 
been  O’Triggers  every  one  of  them.  The  very  fact  that 
the  appearance  of  Sir  Lucius  O’Trigger  on  the  stage 
evoked  a strong  protest  and  gave  rise  to  a newspaper  cor- 
respondence was  a proof  that  the  caricature  was  not 
altogether  remote  from  the  actual.  The  pleasure  which 
the  Irish  gentry  found  in  fighting  each  other  according 
to  the  code  of  duellists  is  reflected  in  the  fondness  of  the 


xvi. 


Barrington's  recollections. 


peasant  for  faction  fighting.  These  extraordinary  battles, 
for  which  no  conceivable  reason  could  be  given,  were 
common  well  on  into  the  19th  century.  They  were  as 
brutal,  as  abominable,  and  as  irrational  as  the  duelling  ; 
but  they  witnessed  to  the  existence  of  high  physical  courage 
among  the  people  who  indulged  in  them. 

It  is  surely  not  necessary  to  recall  the  fact  that  the  courage 
and  fighting  spirit  of  all  classes  in  Ireland  found  expression 
in  finer  ways  than  the  single  combats  of  the  duellists  or  the 
irregular  battles  of  the  peasants.  No  one  has  denied  the 
greatness  of  the  services  rendered  by  Irish  officers  and 
Irish  regiments  to  the  armies  in  which  they  served  in  all 
the  great  European  wars  of  the  18th  and  early  19th 
centuries.  British  military  annals — to  make  no  mention 
of  those  of  France  and  Spain — are  full  of  the  names  of  Irish 
commanders  and  record  many  great  deeds  of  Irish  soldiers. 

Nor  were  the  Irish  of  Barrington’s  day  incapable  of 
feeling  the  force  of  ideas.  There  seems  indeed  to  have  been 
comparatively  little  in  the  way  of  culture  among  the  Irish 
of  the  upper  classes.  They  built  fine  houses  in  the 
Georgian  style  and  filled  them  with  good  furniture.  They 
adorned  Dublin  with  some  dignified  public  -buildings. 
But  otherwise  they  did  almost  nothing,  either  in  the  way 
of  creation  or  patronage,  for  art.  The  few  Irishmen  who 
obtained  high  literary  reputation  won  it  in  England,  writing 
mainly  for  an  English  public.  The  poorer  classes  in 
Ireland  were  almost  entirely  uneducated.  The  old  Gaelic 
culture  survived  among  them,  the  ghost  of  the  past,  but 
no  more  than  a ghost.  It  had  the  inspiration  of  memories 
of  “ old,  unhappy,  far-off  things.”  It  lacked  the  force 


INTRODUCTION. 


XVII. 


of  the  ferment  of  new  thought  by  which  alone  literature 
is  vitalised.  Yet  the  Irish  people  of  all  classes  remained 
susceptible  of  ideas.  It  is  not  to  be  wondered  at,  consider- 
ing what  the  history  of  Ireland  was  during  the  18th  century, 
that  these  ideas  were  mainly  political. 

Barrington  himself  is  a witness  to  the  fact  that  the  Irish 
gentry  of  his  day  were  capable  of  idealism.  The  book 
by  which  he  is  best  known  is  called  “ The  Rise  and  Fall 
of  the  Irish  Nation.”  That  conception  of  “ The  Irish 
Nation  ” was  one  which  had  laid  strong  hold  on  the 
imagination  of  the  Irish  gentry.  It  was  a narrow  concep- 
tion, for  it  took  very  little  heed  of  the  bulk  of  the  people. 
The  Irish  nation,  as  these  men  thought  of  it,  was  the  Irish 
aristocracy,  even  a narrower  thing  still,  the  Irish  Protestant 
aristocracy.  The  idea  was  insular,  divorced  from  the 
main  stream  of  European  thought  ; but  it  was  real.  The 
men  who  were  haunted  by  it  from  the  days  of  Lucas  till 
Grattan  uttered  his  triumphant  “ Esto  perpetua  ” oration 
were  something  more  than  rollicking  squireens.  They  were 
able  to  devote  themselves  to  things  more  spiritual  than 
fox-hunting  and  claret-drinking.  Their  idea  perished 
and  they,  as  a potent  aristocracy,  perished  with  it,  mainly 
because  they  were  not  wholly  true  to  it,  because  they 
were  afraid  at  the  last  moment  to  trust  themselves  and  it. 
The  brief  and  not  inglorious  existence  of  their  independent 
Irish  Parliament  closed  with  the  Act  of  Union.  It  is  the 
fashion  to  speak  of  that  Act  as  a political  necessity.  It 
is,  at  least,  doubtful,  whether  it  was  anything  of  the  sort. 
Ireland  might  conceivably  have  continued,  either  for 
good  or  evil,  to  occupy  the  position  which  Hungary  holds 

( 


xviii.  Barrington’s  recollections. 

in  the  Austrian  Empire.  It  is  a commonplace  to  say  that 
the  Act  of  Union  was  passed  by  bribery  : 

How  did  they  pass  the  Union  ? 

By  perjury  and  fraud, 

By  slaves  who  sold  their  land  for  gold 
As  Judas  sold  his  God. 

How  did  they  pass  the  Union  ? 

By  Pitt  and  Castlereagh. 

Could  Satan  send  for  such  an  end 
More  fitting  tools  then  they  ? 

No  doubt,  there  was  corruption,  plenty  of  it  ; but  it  is 
doubtful  whether  the  Irish  gentry  could  have  been  purchased 
in  sufficient  numbers  to  pass  the  Act  if  they  had  not  at 
the  last  moment  lacked  self-confidence.  They  were  afraid 
of  the  rising  tide  of  democratic  ideas  and  sought  security 
for  themselves  under  the  wing  of  England,  a security 
which,  as  the  19th  century  proved,  was  no  real  security 
at  all.  It  is  possible  that  if  they  had  trusted  themselves 
and  fought  the  battle  of  their  own  class  in  their  own  country 
they  might  have  survived,  a dominant  race  in  Ireland,  as 
the  Magyars  are  in  Hungary.  Their  “ Irish  Nation  ” 
would  have  survived  with  them  for  a while  ; and  the  history 
of  the  country  could  scarcely  have  been  more  unhappy 
than  it  has  been.  They  made  their  choice,  and  history 
must  judge  them  a people  who,  in  spite  of  their  recklessness 
and  rollicking,  yet  had  one  lofty  idea  to  which  they  were 
faithful  for  a little  while. 

And  the  Irish  people,  the  peasants,  oppressed,  ignorant, 
to  a large  extent  debauched  as  they  were,  also  showed 
themselves  capable  of  being  influenced  by  ideas.  It  must 
always  remain  something  of  a puzzle  that  the  Irish  people 
should  have  received,  even  as  much  as  they  did,  the  doctrines 


INTRODUCTION. 


xix. 


of  revolutionary  France.  It  might  have  been  argued  that 
the  Irish  people,  devoted  to  the  Roman  Catholic  Church 
with  all  the  affection  of  a persecuted  remnant,  would  have 
been  the  very  last  in  Europe  to  feel  the  attraction  of  revolu- 
tionary ideas  which  were  essentially  anti-religious,  against 
which  the  Papacy  had  definitely  ranged  itself.  Yet  the 
French  Revolution  was  the  inspiration  of  the  movement 
of  the  United  Irishmen,  as  the  revolt  of  the  American 
colonists  had  been  of  the  Volunteers.  The  rebellion  in 
Wexford  to  a large  extent,  the  outbreak  in  Antrim  entirely, 
breathed  the  spirit  of  revolutionary  France.  Wolfe  Tone’s 
amazing  autobiography  is  the  work  of  an  intellectual  revo- 
lutionary, fascinated  by  French  ideas  It  is  true  that  many 
of  the  ablest  leaders  of  the  United  Irishmen  belonged  to 
the  educated  middle  classes  and  others  sprang  from  the 
naturally  democratic  Protestant  communities  of  the  north  ; 
but  their  teaching  found  a ready  welcome  among  the 
peasantry  of  the  south  and  west,  a proof  that  the  Irish 
people,  like  the  Irish  gentry,  were  spiritually  alive,  responsive 
to  the  stimulus  of  ideas. 

Barrington’s  “ Personal  Reminiscences  ” is  a misleading 
book  in  that  it  fails  to  take  proper  account,  fails  to  give 
more  than  scarcely  discernible  hints,  of  the  spiritual  vitality 
of  Ireland  in  his  time.  “ I profess,”  says  Barrington,  “ to 
be  a sound  Protestant  without  bigotry  and  an  hereditary 
Royalist  without  ultraism.  Liberty  I love,  democracy  I 
hate,  fanaticism  I denounce.”  That  is  probably  a perfectly 
honest  confession  of  faith,  an  account  of  the  author’s  actual 
convictions.  It  is  scarcely  to  be  expected  of  such  a man 
that  he  would  understand  or  appreciate  the  feelings  of  a 


XX. 


Barrington’s  recollections. 


people  in  whose  old  bottles  of  traditional  religious  devotion 
the  new  wine  of  revolutionary  democracy  was  fermenting 
to  the  bursting  point.  But  Barrington  might — indeed 
elsewhere  he  shows  us  that  he  did — have  understood  his 
own  class  and  its  peculiar  idealisms.  No  doubt,  Barrington 
when  he  wrote  this  book  was  a disappointed  and  disillusioned 
man.  “It  is,  however,  now  in  proof  that  twenty-seven 
years  of  the  Union  have  been  twenty-seven  years  of  beggary 
and  disturbance  ; and  this  result,  I may  fairly  say,  I always 
foresaw.”  A man  in  the  mood  of  the  writer  of  these  words 
is  not  likely  to  go  back  with  any  gladness  to  the  memory 
of  great  emotions  and  compelling  ideas.  He  has  seen  his 
hopes  vanish,  his  plans  fail,  his  ideas  submerged  by  meaner 
considerations  of  expediency  and  profit.  It  seems  para- 
doxical, but  it  is  in  fact  more  likely  that  he  will  dwell  most 
on  the  superficial  jollity  of  past  days,  on  old  scandals  and 
old  jokes,  on  the  recollection  of  the  merrier,  more  careless 
parts  of  the  old  life.  Either  that,  or  he  will  write  a jeremiad, 
and  Barrington  is  true  Irishman  in  this  : His  self-respect 

demands  of  him  that  he  shall  laugh  to  the  last  and  laugh 
loudest  when  he  sees  most  cause  for  tears.  There  is  the 
laughter  of  fools  which  is  as  the  crackling  of  thorns  under 
a pot ; but  there  is  also,  as  one  of  our  latest  poets  has  said, 
a laughter  which  is  the  “ trick  of  a broken  heart.” 


Barrington’s  Recollections 


CHAPTER  I. 

MY  FAMILY  CONNEXIONS. 

I was  born  at  Knapton,  near  Abbeyleix,  in  the  Queen’s 
County,  at  that  time  the  seat  of  my  father,  but  now  of  Sir 
George  Pigott.  I am  the  third  son  and  fourth  child  of  John 
Barrington,  who  had  himself  neither  brother  nor  sister  ; and 
at  the  period  of  my  birth  my  immediate  connexions  were 
thus  circumstanced. 

My  family,  by  ancient  patents,  by  marriages,  and  by 
inheritance  from  their  ancestors,  possessed  very  extensive 
landed  estates  in  Queen’s  County,  and  had  almost  unlimited 
influence  over  its  population,  returning  two  members  to  the 
Irish  Parliament  for  Ballynakill,  then  a close  borough. 

Cullenaghmore,  the  mansion  where  my  ancesters  had 
resided  from  the  reign  of  James  the  First,  was  then  occupied 
by  my  grandfather,  Colonel  Jonah  Barrington.  He  had 
adopted  me  as  soon  as  I was  born,  brought  me  to  Cullen- 
aghmore, and  with  him  I resided  until  his  death. 

That  old  mansion,  the  Great  House,  as  it  was  called, 
exhibited  altogether  an  uncouth  mass,  warring  with  every 
rule  of  symmetry  in  architecture.  The  original  castle  had 
been  demolished,  and  its  materials  converted  to  a much 
worse  purpose  ; the  front  of  the  edifice  which  succeeded 
it  was  particularly  ungraceful — a Saracen’s  head,  our  crest, 

(D  311) 


B 


2 


Barrington’s  recollections. 


in  coloured  brickwork  being  its  only  ornament,  whilst  some 
of  the  rooms  inside  were  wainscotted  with  brown  oak,  others 
with  red  deal,  and  some  not  at  all.  The  walls  of  the  large 
hall  were  decked,  as  is  customary,  with  fishing-rods,  fire- 
arms, stags’  horns,  foxes’  brushes,  powder-flasks,  shot- 
pouches,  nets,  and  dog-collars  ; here  and  there  relieved 
by  the  extended  skin  of  a kite  or  a king-fisher,  nailed  up 
in  the  vanity  of  their  destroyers  ; that  of  a monstrous  eagle, 
which  impressed  itself  indelibly  on  my  mind,  surmounted 
the  chimney-piece,  accompanied  by  a card  announcing 
the  name  of  its  slaughterer — “ Alexander  Barrington  ” — 
who,  not  being  a rich  relation,  was  subsequently  entertained 
in  the  Great  House  two  years,  as  a compliment  for  his 
present.  A large  parlour  on  each  side  of  the  hall,  the  only 
embellishments  of  which  were  some  old  portraits,  and  a 
multiplicity  of  hunting,  shooting,  and  racing  prints,  with  red 
tape  nailed  round  them  by  way  of  frames,  completed  the 
reception-rooms  ; and  as  I was  the  only  child  in  the  house, 
and  a most  inquisitive  brat,  every  different  article  was 
explained  to  me. 

I remained  here  till  I was  nine  years  old  ; I had  no  play- 
fellows to  take  off  my  attention  from  whatever  I observed 
or  was  taught  ; and  so  strongly  do  those  early  impressions 
remain  engraven  on  my  memory,  naturally  most  retentive, 
that  even  at  this  long  distance  of  time  I fancy  I can  see 
the  entire  place  as  it  stood  then,  with  its  old  inhabitants 
moving  before  me — their  faces  I most  clearly  recollect. 

The  library  was  a gloomy  closet,  and  rather  scantily 
furnished  with  everything  but  dust  and  cobwebs ; there  were 
neither  chairs  nor  tables  ; but  I cannot  avoid  recollecting 
many  of  the  principal  books,  because  I read  such  of  them 
as  I could  comprehend,  or  as  were  amusing,  and  looked 
over  all  the  prints  in  them  a hundred  times.  While  trying 
to  copy  these  prints,  they  made  an  indelible  impression 
upon  me  ; and  hence  I feel  confident  of  the  utility  of 


MY  FAMILY  CONNEXIONS. 


3 


embellishments  in  any  book  intended  for  the  instruction 
of  children.  I possessed  many  of  the  books  long  after 
my  grandfather’s  death,  and  have  some  of  them  still.  I 
had  an  insatiable  passion  for  reading  from  my  earliest 
days,  and  it  has  occupied  the  greater  proportion  of  my 
later  life.  Gulliver's  Travels,  Robinson  Crusoe,  Fairy  Tales, 
and  The  History  of  the  Bible,  all  with  numerous  plates,  were 
my  favourite  authors  and  constant  amusement  : I believed 
every  word  of  them  except  the  fairies,  and  was  not  entirely 
sceptical  as  to  those  good  people  either. 

I fancy  there  was  then  but  little  variety  in  the  libraries 
of  most  country  gentlemen  ; and  I mention  as  a curiosity 
the  following  volumes,  several  of  which,  as  already  stated, 
I retained  many  years  after  my  grandfather  and  grandmother 
died  : — The  Journals  of  the  House  of  Commons  ; Clarendon' s 
History  ; The  Spectator  and  Guardian  ; Killing  no  Murder  ; 
The  Patriot  King  ; Bailey's  Dictionary  ; some  of  Szvift's 
Works  ; George  Falkner's  Newspapers  ; Quintus  Curtius  in 
English  ; Bishop  Burnet  ; A Treatise  on  Tar-water,  by  some 
bishop  ; Robinson  Crusoe  ; Hudibras  ; History  of  the  Bible, 
in  folio  ; Nelson's  Fasts  and  Feasts ; Fairy  Tales ; The 
History  of  Peter  Wilkins  ; Glums  and  Gouries  ; somebody’s 
Justice  of  Peace  ; and  a multiplicity  of  Farriery,  Sporting, 
and  Gardening  books,  etc.,  which  I lost  piecemeal  when 
making  room  for  law-books — probably  not  half  so  good, 
but  at  least  much  more  experimental. 

Very  few  mirrors  in  those  days  adorned  the  houses  of  the 
country  gentlemen — a couple  or  three  shaving-glasses  for 
the  gentlemen,  and  a couple  of  pretty  large  dressing-glasses, 
in  black  frames,  for  the  ladies’  use,  composed,  I believe, 
nearly  the  entire  stock  of  reflectors  at  my  grandfather’s, 
except  tubs  of  spring  water,  which  answered  for  the  maid- 
servants. 

A very  large  and  productive,  but  not  neatly  dressed-up 
garden,  adjoined  the  house.  The  white-washed  stone 


4 


Barrington’s  recollections. 


images,  the  broad  flights  of  steps  up  and  down,  the  terraces, 
with  the  round  fish-pond,  riveted  my  attention,  and  gave 
an  impressive  variety  to  this  garden,  which  I shall  ever 
remember,  as  well  as  many  curious  incidents  which  I wit- 
nessed therein. 

At  the  Great  House  all  disputes  amongst  the  tenants  were 
then  settled — quarrels  reconciled — old  debts  arbitrated  : a 
kind  Irish  landlord  reigned  despotic  in  the  ardent  affections 
of  the  tenantry,  their  pride  and  pleasure  being  to  obey  and 
to  support  him. 

But  there  existed  a happy  reciprocity  of  interests.  The 
landlord  of  that  period  protected  the  tenant  by  his  influence 
— any  wanton  injury  to  a tenant  being  considered  as  an 
insult  to  the  lord  ; and  if  either  of  the  landlord’s  sons  were 
grown  up,  no  time  was  lost  by  him  in  demanding  satisfaction 
from  any  gentleman  for  maltreating  even  his  father’s 
blacksmith. 

No  gentleman  of  this  degree  ever  distrained  a tenant  for 
rent : indeed,  the  parties  appeared  to  be  quite  united  and 
knit  together.  The  greatest  abhorrence,  however,  prevailed 
as  to  tithe-proctors,  coupled  with  no  great  predilection  for 
the  clergy  who  employed  them.  These  latter  certainly  were, 
in  principle  and  practice,  the  real  country  tyrants  of  that 
day,  and  first  caused  the  assembling  of  the  White  Boys. 

I have  heard  it  often  said  that,  at  the  time  I speak  of,  every 
estated  gentleman  in  the  Queen’s  County  was  honoured  by 
the  gout.  I have  since  considered  that  its  extraordinary 
prevalence  was  not  difficult  to  be  accounted  for,  by  the 
disproportionate  quantity  of  acid  contained  in  their  seduc- 
tive beverage,  called  rum-shrub,  which  was  then  universally 
drunk  in  quantities  nearly  incredible,  generally  from  supper- 
time till  morning,  by  all  country  gentlemen,  as  they  said,  to 
keep  down  their  claret. 

My  grandfather  could  not  refrain,  and,  therefore,  he  suf- 
fered well ; he  piqued  himself  on  procuring,  through  the 


MY  FAMILY  CONNEXIONS. 


5 


interest  of  Batty  Lodge  (a  follower  of  the  family  who  had 
married  a Dublin  grocer’s  widow),  the  very  first  importation 
of  oranges  and  lemons  to  the  Irish  capital  every  season. 
Horse-loads  of  these,  packed  in  boxes,  were  immediately 
sent  to  the  Great  House  of  Cullenaghmore  ; and  no  sooner 
did  they  arrive  than  the  good  news  of  fresh  fruit  was  com- 
municated to  the  colonel’s  neighbouring  friends,  accom- 
panied by  the  usual  invitation. 

Night  after  night  the  revel  afforded  uninterrupted  pleasure 
to  the  joyous  gentry  : the  festivity  being  subsequently 
renewed  at  some  other  mansion,  till  the  gout  thought  proper 
to  put  the  whole  party  hors  de  combat — having  the  satisfac- 
tion of  making  cripples  for  a few  months  such  as  he  did 
not  kill. 

Whilst  the  convivials  bellowed  with  only  toe  or  finger 
agonies  it  was  a mere  bagatelle  ; but  when  Mr.  Gout 
marched  up  the  country  and  invaded  the  head  or  the 
stomach,  it  was  then  called  no  joke  ; and  Drogheda  usque- 
baugh, the  hottest-distilled  drinkable  liquor  ever  invented, 
was  applied  to  for  aid,  and  generally  drove  the  tormentor 
in  a few  minutes  to  his  former  quarters.  It  was,  indeed, 
counted  a specific  ; and  I allude  to  it  the  more  particularly, 
as  my  poor  grandfather  was  finished  thereby. 

It  was  his  custom  to  sit  under  a very  large  branching  bay- 
tree  in  his  arm-chair,  placed  in  a fine  sunny  aspect  at  the 
entrance  of  the  garden.  I particularly  remember  his  cloak, 
for  I kept  it  twelve  years  after  his  death  : it  was  called  a 
cartouche  cloak,  from  a famous  French  robber  who,  it  was 
said,  invented  it  for  his  gang  for  the  purposes  of  evasion. 
It  was  made  of  very  fine  broad-cloth,  of  a bright 
blue  colour  on  one  side  and  a bright  scarlet  on  the  other, 
so  that  on  being  turned  it  might  deceive  even  a vigilant 
pursuer. 

There  my  grandfather  used  to  sit  of  a hot  sunny  day, 
receive  any  rents  he  could  collect,  and  settle  any  accounts 


6 


Barrington’s  recollections. 


which  his  indifference  on  that  head  permitted  him  to 
think  of. 

At  one  time  he  suspected  a young  rogue  of  having  slipped 
some  money  off  his  table  when  paying  rent ; and,  therefore, 
when  afterwards  the  tenants  began  to  count  out  their  money, 
he  used  to  throw  the  focus  of  his  large  reading-glass  upon 
their  hands — the  smart,  without  any  visible  cause,  astonished 
the  ignorant  creatures  ! they  shook  their  hands,  and  thought 
it  must  be  the  devil  who  was  scorching  them.  The  priest 
was  let  into  the  secret  : he  seriously  told  them  all  it  was  the 
devil,  who  had  mistaken  them  for  the  fellow  that  had  stolen 
the  money  from  the  colonel  ; but  that  if  he  (the  priest)  was 
properly  considered , he  would  say  as  many  masses  as  would 
bother  fifty  devils,  were  it  necessary.  The  priest  got  his 
fee  ; and  another  farthing  never  was  taken  from  my  grand- 
father. 

He  was  rather  a short  man,  with  a large  red  nose,  strong 
made,  and  wore  an  immense  white  wig,  such  as  the  portraits 
give  to  Dr.  Johnson.  He  died  at  eighty-six  years  of  age,  of 
shrub-gout  and  usquebaugh,  beloved  and  respected.  I cried 
heartily  for  him  ; and  then  became  the  favourite  of  my 
grandmother,  the  best  woman  in  the  world,  who  went  to 
reside  in  Dublin  and  prepare  me  for  college. 

Colonel  John  Barrington,  my  great-grandfather,  for  some 
time  before  his  death,  and  after  I was  born,  resided  at 
Ballyroan.  My  grandfather  having  married  Margaret,  the 
daughter  of  Sir  John  Byrne,  Bart.,  had  taken  to  the  estates 
and  mansion,  and  gave  an  annuity  to  my  great-grandfather, 
who  died,  one  hundred  and  four  years  old,  of  a fever,  having 
never  shewn  any  of  the  usual  decrepitudes  or  defects  of  age 
— he  was  the  most  respectable  man  by  tradition  of  my  family, 
and  for  more  than  seventy  years  a Parliament  man. 

Sir  John  Byrne,  Bart.,  my  maternal  great-grandfather, 
lived  at  his  old  castle,  Timogee,  almost  adjoining  my  grand- 
father Barrington  ; his  domains,  close  to  Stradbally,  were 


MY  FAMILY  CONNEXIONS. 


7 


nearly  the  most  beautiful  in  the  Queen’s  County.  On  his 
decease  his  widow,  Lady  Dorothea  Byrne,  an  Englishwoman, 
whose  name  had  been  Warren,  I believe  a grand-aunt  to 
the  late  Lady  Bulkley,  resided  there  till  her  death,  having 
previously  seen  her  son  give  one  of  the  first  and  most  deeply 
to  be  regretted  instances  of  what  is  called  forming  English 
connexions.  Sir  John  Byrne,  my  grand-uncle,  having  gone 
to  England,  married  the  heiress  of  the  Leycester  family. 
The  very  name  of  Ireland  was  then  odious  to  the  English 
gentry  ; and  previous  terms  were  made  with  him,  that 
his  children  should  take  the  cognomen  of  Leycester, 
and  drop  that  of  Byrne  ; that  he  should  quit  Ireland, 
sell  all  his  paternal  estates  there,  and  become  an 
Englishman.  He  assented  ; and  the  last  Lord  Shelbourne 
purchased,  for  less  than  half  their  value,  all  his  fine 
estates,  of  which  the  Marquis  of  Lansdowne  is  now  the 
proprietor. 

After  the  father’s  death  the  son  became,  of  course,  Sir 
Peter  Leycester,  the  predecessor  of  the  present  Sir  John 
Fleming  Leycester  : thus  the  family  of  Byrne,  descended 
from  a long  line  of  Irish  princes  and  chieftains,  condescended 
to  become  little  amongst  the  rank  of  English  commoners  ; 
and  so  ended  the  connexion  between  the  Byrnes  and 
Barringtons. 

My  mother  was  the  daughter  of  Patrick  French,  of  Peters- 
well,  County  of  Galway,  wherein  he  had  large  estates  ; my 
grandmother,  his  wife,  was  one  of  the  last  remaining  to  the 
first  house  of  the  ancient  O’Briens.  Her  brother,  my  great- 
uncle  Donatus,  also  emigrated  to  England,  and  died  fifteen 
or  sixteen  years  since  at  his  mansion,  Blatherwick,  in  Che- 
shire, in  a species  of  voluntary  obscurity,  inconsistent  with 
his  birth  and  large  fortune.  Lie  left  great  hereditary  estates 
in  both  countries  to  the  enjoyment  of  his  mistress , excluding 
the  legitimate  branches  of  his  family  from  all  claims  upon 
the  manors  or  demesnes  of  their  ancestors.  The  law 


8 Barrington’s  recollections. 

enabled  him  to  do  what  a due  sense  of  justice  and  pride 
would  have  interdicted. 

The  anomaly  of  political  principles  among  the  Irish 
country  gentlemen  at  that  period  was  very  extraordinary. 
They  professed  what  they  called  “ unshaken  loyalty  ” ; and 
yet  they  were  unqualified  partisans  of  Cromwell  and 
William,  two  decided  usurpers — one  of  them  having  de- 
throned his  father-in-law,  and  the  other  decapitated  his 
king. 

The  fifth  of  November  was  celebrated  in  Dublin  for  the 
preservation  of  a Scottish  king  from  gunpowder  in  London  ; 
then  the  thirtieth  of  January  was  much  approved  of  by  a 
great  number  of  Irish,  as  the  anniversary  of  making  his  son, 
Charles  the  First,  shorter  by  the  head  ; and  then  the  very 
same  Irish  celebrated  the  restoration  of  Charles  the  Second, 
who  was  twice  as  bad  as  his  father  ; and  whilst  they  rejoiced 
in  putting  a crown  upon  the  head  of  the  son  of  the  king  who 
could  not  quietly  keep  his  own  head  on,  they  never  failed  to 
drink  bumpers  to  the  memory  of  Old  Noll , who  had  cut 
that  king’s  head  off.  To  conclude,  in  order  to  commemorate 
the  whole  story,  and  make  their  children  remember  it,  they 
dressed  up  a fat  calf’s  head  on  every  anniversary  of  King 
Charles’s  throat  being  cut,  and  with  a smoked  ham  placed 
by  the  side  of  it,  all  parties  partook  thereof  most  happily, 
washing  down  the  emblem  and  its  accompaniment  with  as 
much  claret  as  they  could  hold. 

Having  thus  proved  their  loyalty  to  James  the  First,  and 
their  attachment  to  his  son’s  murderer,  and  then  their 
loyalty  to  one  of  his  grandsons,  to  another  of  whom  they 
were  disloyal,  they  next  proceeded  to  celebrate  the  birthday 
of  William  of  Orange,  a Dutchman,  who  turned  their  king, 
his  father-in-law,  out  of  the  country,  and  who,  in  all  proba- 
bility, would  have  given  the  Irish  another  calf’s  head  for 
their  celebration,  if  his  said  father-in-law  had  not  got  out 
of  the  way  with  the  utmost  expedition,  and  gone  to  live 


MY  FAMILY  CONNEXIONS.  9 

upon  charity  in  France,  with  the  natural  enemies  of  the 
British  nation. 

One  part  of  the  Irish  people  then  invented  a toast,  called 
“ The  glorious,  pious,  and  immortal  memory  of  William  the 
Dutchman  ” ; whilst  another  raised  a counter  toast,  called 
“ The  memory  of  the  chestnut  horse,”  that  broke  the  neck 
of  the  same  King  William.*  But  in  my  mind,  if  I am  to 
judge  of  past  times  by  the  corporation  of  Dublin,  it  was 
only  to  coin  an  excuse  for  getting  loyally  drunk  as  often  as 
possible,  that  they  were  so  enthusiastically  fond  of  making 
sentiments,  as  they  called  them.f 

As  to  the  politics  of  my  family,  we  had,  no  doubt,  some 
very  substantial  reasons  for  being  both  Cromwellians  and 
Williamites  : the  one  confirmed  our  grants,  and  the  other 
preserved  them  for  us  : my  family,  indeed,  had  certainly 
not  only  those,  but  other  very  especial  reasons  to  be  pleased 
with  King  William  ; and  though  he  gave  them  nothing, 
they  kept  what  they  had,  which  might  have  been  lost  but 
for  his  usurpation. 

During  the  short  reign  of  James  the  Second  in  Ireland, 
those  who  were  not  for  him  were  considered  to  be  against 
him,  and,  of  course,  were  subjected  to  the  severities  and 
confiscations  usual  in  all  civil  wars.  Amongst  the  rest  my 
great-grandfather,  Colonel  John  Barrington,  being  a Protes- 
tant and  having  no  predilection  for  King  James,  was  ousted 
from  his  mansion  and  estates  at  Cullenaghmore  by  one 
O’Fagan,  a Jacobite  wigmaker  and  violent  partisan  from 
Ballynakill.  He  was,  notwithstanding,  rather  respectfully 
treated,  and  was  allowed  forty  pounds  a year  so  long  as 
he  behaved  himself. 

* King  William’s  neck  was  not  broken  ; but  it  was  said  that  he  got 
a fall  from  a chestnut  horse  which  hurt  him  inwardly,  and  hastened  his 
dissolution. 

f Could  his  majesty,  King  William,  learn  in  the  other  world  that  he 
Had  been  the  cause  of  more  broken  heads  and  drunken  men  since  his 
departure,  than  all  his  predecessors,  he  must  be  the  proudest  ghost 
and  most  conceited  skeleton  that  ever  entered  the  gardens  of  Elysium. 


IO 


Barrington's  recollections. 


However,  he  only  behaved  well  for  a couple  of  months : 
at  the  end  of  which  time,  with  a party  of  his  faithful  tenants, 
he  surprised  the  wigmaker,  turned  him  out  of  possession  in 
his  turn,  and  repossessed  himself  of  his  mansion  and  estates. 

The  wigmaker  having  escaped  to  Dublin,  laid  his  com- 
plaint before  the  authorities  ; and  a party  of  soldiers  were 
ordered  to  make  short  work  of  it,  if  the  colonel  did  not 
submit  on  the  first  summons. 

The  party  demanded  entrance,  but  were  refused,  and  a 
little  firing  from  the  windows  of  the  mansion  took  place. 
Not  being,  however,  tenable,  it  was  successfully  stormed, 
the  old  gamekeeper,  John  Neville,  killed,  and  my  great- 
grandfather taken  prisoner,  conveyed  to  the  drum-head  at 
Raheenduff,  tried  as  a rebel  by  a certain  Cornet  M‘Mahon, 
and  in  due  form  ordered  to  be  hanged  in  an  hour. 

At  the  appointed  time  execution  was  punctually  proceeded 
on  ; and  so  far  as  tying  up  the  colonel  to  the  cross-bar  of  his 
own  gate,  the  sentence  was  actually  put  in  force.  But  at 
the  moment  the  first  haul  was  given  to  elevate  him,  Ned 
Doran,  a tenant  of  the  estate,  who  was  a trooper  in  King 
James’s  army,  rode  up  to  the  gate,  himself  and  horse  in  a 
state  of  complete  exhaustion.  He  saw  with  horror  his  land- 
lord strung  up,  and  exclaimed — 

“ Holloa  ! holloa  ! blood  and  ouns,  boys  ! cut  down  the 
colonel  ! cut  down  the  colonel  ! or  ye’ll  be  all  hanged  yeer- 
selves,  ye  villains  of  the  world  ye  ! I am  straight  from  the 
Boyne  Water,  through  thick  and  thin  : ough,  by  the  hokys  ! 
we’re  all  cut  up  and  kilt  to  the  devil  and  back  agin — * 
Jemmy’s  scampered,  bad  luck  to  him,  without  a ‘ good-bye  to 
yees  ! ’ — or,  ‘ kiss  my  r — p ! ’ — or  the  least  civility  in  life  ! ” 
My  grandfather’s  hangman  lost  no  time  in  getting  off, 
leaving  the  colonel  slung  fast  by  the  neck  to  the  gate  posts. 
But  Doran  soon  cut  him  down,  and  feli  on  his  knees  to  beg 
pardon  of  his  landlord,  the  holy  Virgin,  and  King  William 
from  the  Boyne  Water. 


MY  FAMILY  CONNEXIONS. 


II 


The  colonel  obtained  the  trooper  pardon,  and  he  was  ever 
after  a faithful  adherent.  He  was  the  grandfather  of  Lieu- 
tenant-Colonel Doran,  of  the  Irish  Brigade,  afterwards,  if  I 
recollect  rightly,  of  the  47th  regiment — the  officer  who  cut  a 
German  colonel’s  head  clean  off  in  the  mess-room  at  Lisbon, 
after  dinner,  with  one  slice  of  his  sabre.  He  dined  with  me 
repeatedly  at  Paris  about  six  years  since,  and  was  the  most 
disfigured  warrior  that  could  possibly  be  imagined.  When 
he  left  Cullenagh  for  the  Continent,  in  1783,  he  was  as  fine 
a clever-looking  young  farmer  as  could  be  seen  ; but  he  had 
been  blown  up  once  or  twice  in  storming  batteries,  which, 
with  a few  gashes  across  his  features,  and  the  obvious  aid  of 
numerous  pipes  of  wine,  or  something  not  weaker,  had  so 
spoiled  his  beauty,  that  he  had  become  of  late  absolutely 
frightful. 

This  occurrence  of  my  great-grandfather  fixed  the  political 
creed  of  my  family.  On  the  first  of  July  the  orange  lily  was 
sure  to  garnish  every  window  in  the  mansion  : the  here- 
ditary petereroes  scarcely  ceased  cracking  all  the  evening, 
to  glorify  the  victory  of  the  Boyne  Water,  till  one  of  them 
burst,  and  killed  the  gardener’s  wife,  who  was  tying  an 
orange  ribbon  round  the  mouth  of  it,  which  she  had  stopped 
for  fear  of  accidents . The  tenantry,  though  to  a man 
Papists,  and  at  that  time  nearly  in  a state  of  slavery,  joined 
heart  and  hand  in  these  rejoicings,  and  forgot  the  victory 
of  their  enemy  while  commemorating  the  rescue  of  their 
landlord.  A hundred  times  have  I heard  the  story  repeated 
by  the  “ Cotchers,”  as  they  sat  crouching  on  their  hams, 
like  Indians,  around  the  big  turf  fire.  Their  only  lament 
was  for  the  death  of  old  John  Neville,  the  gamekeeper. 
His  name  I should  well  remember,  for  it  was  his  grandson’s 
wife,  Debby  Clarke,  who  nursed  me. 

This  class  of  stories  and  incidents  was  well  calculated  to 
make  indelible  impressions  on  the  mind  of  a child,  and  has 
never  left  mine.  The  old  people  of  Ireland,  like  the  Asiatics, 


12 


Barrington’s  recollections. 


took  the  greatest  delight  in  repeating  their  legendary,  tales  to 
the  children,  by  which  constant  repetition  their  old  stories 
became,  in  fact,  hereditary,  and  I daresay  neither  gained 
nor  lost  a single  sentence  in  the  recital  for  a couple  of 
hundred  years.  The  massacres  of  Queen  Elizabeth  were 
quite  familiar  to  them  ; and  by  an  ancient  custom  of  every- 
body throwing  a stone  on  the  spot  where  any  celebrated 
murder  had  been  committed,  upon  a certain  day  every  year, 
it  is  wonderful  what  mounds  were  raised  in  numerous 
places  which  no  person,  but  such  as  were  familiar  with  the 
customs  of  the  poor  creatures,  would  ever  be  able  to  account 
for. 


ELIZABETH  FITZGERALD. 


13 


CHAPTER  II. 

ELIZABETH  FITZGERALD. 

A great-aunt  of  mine,  Elizabeth  Fitzgerald,  whose 
husband,  Stephen,  possessed  the  castle  of  Moret,  near 
Bally-Brittis,  and  not  very  far  from  Cullenagh,  did  not 
fare  quite  so  well  as  my  great-grandfather  before  mentioned. 

She  and  her  husband  held  their  castle  firmly  during  the 
troubles.  They  had  forty  good  warders  ; their  local 
enemies  had  no  cannon  and  but  few  guns.  The  warders, 
protected  by  the  battlements,  pelted  their  adversaries  with 
large  stones  when  they  ventured  to  approach  the  walls  ; 
and  in  front  of  each  of  that  description  of  castle  there  was 
a hole,  perpendicularly  over  the  entrance,  wherefrom  any 
person,  himself  unseen,  could  drop  down  every  species  of 
defensive  material  upon  assailants. 

About  the  year  1690,  when  Ireland  was  in  a state  of  great 
disorder,  and  no  laws  were  really  regarded,  numerous 
factious  bodies  were  formed  in  every  part  of  the  country 
to  claim  old  rights,  and  take  possession  of  estates  under 
legal  pretences. 

My  uncle  and  aunt,  or  rather  my  aunt  and  uncle,  for  she 
was  said  to  be  far  the  more  effective  of  the  two,  at  one 
time  suffered  the  enemy  (who  were  of  the  faction  of  the 
O’Cahils,  and  who  claimed  my  uncle’s  property,  which 
they  said  Queen  Elizabeth  had  turned  them  out  of)  to 
approach  the  gate  in  the  night-time.  There  were  neither 
outworks  nor  wet  fosse  ; the  assailants,  therefore,  counting 
upon  victory,  brought  fire  to  consume  the  gate,  and  so 
gain  admittance.  My  aunt,  aware  of  their  designs,  drew 
all  her  warders  to  one  spot,  large  heaps  of  great  stones 
being  ready  to  their  hands  at  the  top  of  the  castle. 


BARRINGTON  S RECOLLECTIONS. 


14 

When  the  O’Cahils  had  got  close  to  the  gate,  and  were 
directly  under  the  loop-hole,  on  a sudden  streams  of  boiling 
water,  heated  in  the  castle  coppers,  came  showering  down 
upon  the  heads  of  the  crowd  below  : this  extinguished  their 
fire,  and  cruelly  scalded  many  of  the  besiegers. 

The  scene  may  be  conceived  which  was  presented  by  a 
multitude  of  scalded  wretches,  on  a dark  night,  under  the 
power  and  within  the  reach  of  all  offensive  missiles.  They 
attempted  to  fly  ; but  whilst  one  part  of  the  warders  hurled 
volleys  of  weighty  stones  beyond  them,  to  deter  them  from 
retreating , another  party  dropped  stones  more  ponderous 
still  on  the  heads  of  those  who,  for  protection,  crouched 
close  under  the  castle  walls  : the  lady  of  the  castle  herself, 
meantime,  and  all  her  maids,  assisting  the  chief  body  of  the 
warders  in  pelting  the  Jacobites  with  every  kind  of  destruc- 
tive missile,  till  all  seemed  pretty  still  ; and  wherever  a 
groan  was  heard,  a volley  quickly  ended  the  troubles  of  the 
sufferer. 

The  old  traditionists  of  the  country  often  told  me  that  at 
daybreak  there  were  lying  above  one  hundred  of  the  assail- 
ants under  the  castle  walls — some  scalded,  some  battered  to 
pieces,  and  many  lamed  so  as  to  have  no  power  of  moving 
off  ; but  my  good  aunt  kindly  ordered  them  all  to  be  put  out 
of  their  misery  as  fast  as  ropes  and  a long  gallows,  erected 
for  their  sakes,  could  perform  that  piece  of  humanity. 

After  the  victory  the  warders  had  a feast  on  the  castle  top, 
whereat  each  of  them  recounted  his  own  feats.  Squire 
Fitzgerald,  who  was  a quiet,  easy  man,  and  hated  fighting, 
and  who  had  told  my  aunt  at  the  beginning  that  they  would 
surely  kill  him,  having  seated  himself  all  night  peaceably 
under  one  of  the  parapets,  was  quite  delighted  when  the 
affray  was  over.  He  had  walked  out  into  his  garden  outside 
the  walls  to  take  some  tranquil  air,  when  an  ambuscade  of 
the  hostile  survivors  surrounded  and  carried  him  off.  In 


ELIZABETH  FITZGERALD.  1 5 

vain  his  warders  sallied — the  squire  was  gone  past  all 
redemption  ! 

It  was  supposed  he  had  paid  his  debts  to  Nature,  if  any 
he  owed,  when,  next  day,  a large  body  of  the  O’Cahil  faction 
appeared  near  the  castle.  Their  force  was  too  great  to  be 
attacked  by  the  warders,  who  durst  not  sally  ; and  the  former 
assault  had  been  too  calamitous  to  the  O’Cahils  to  warrant 
them  in  attempting  another.  Both  were,  therefore,  standing 
at  bay,  when,  to  the  great  joy  of  the  garrison,  Squire  Fitz- 
gerald was  produced,  and  one  of  the  assailants,  with  a white 
cloth  on  a pike,  advanced  to  parley. 

The  lady  attended  his  proposals,  which  were  very  laconic. 
“ I’m  a truce,  lady  ! Look  here  (shewing  the  terrified 
squire),  we  have  your  husband  in  hault — yees  have  yeer 
castle  sure  enough.  Now,  we’ll  change,  if  you  please  : 
we’ll  render  the  squire  and  you’ll  render  the  keep  ; and  if 
yees  won’t  do  that  same,  the  squire  will  be  throttled  before 
your  two  eyes  in  half  an  hour.” 

“ Flag  of  truce  ! ” said  the  heroine,  with  due  dignity  and 
without  hesitation.  “ Mark  the  words  of  Elizabeth  Fitz- 
gerald, of  Moret  Castle — they  may  serve  for  your  own  wife 
upon  some  future  occasion.  Flag  of  truce  ! I won't  render 
my  keep,  and  I’ll  tell  you  why — Elizabeth  Fitzgerald  may 
get  another  husband,  but  Elizabeth  Fitzgerald  may  never 
get  another  castle  ; so  I’ll  keep  what  I have  ; and  if  you 
can’t  get  off  faster  than  your  legs  can  readily  carry  you, 
my  warders  will  try  which  is  hardest,  your  skull  or  a stone 
bullet.” 

The  O’Cahils  kept  their  word,  and  old  Squire  Stephen 
Fitzgerald  in  a short  time  was  seen  dangling  and  performing 
various  evolutions  in  the  air,  to  the  great  amusement  of  the 
Jacobites,  the  mortification  of  the  warders,  and  chagrin’ 
(which,  however,  was  not  without  a mixture  of  consolation) 
of  my  great-aunt  Elizabeth. 


1 6 BARRINGTON’S  RECOLLECTIONS. 

This  magnanimous  lady,  after  Squire  Stephen  had  been 
duly  cut  down,  waked,  and  deposited  in  a neighbouring 
garden,  conceived  that  she  might  enjoy  her  castle  with 
tranquillity  ; but,  to  guard  against  every  chance,  she  replen- 
ished her  stony  magazine,  had  a wide  trench  dug  before  the 
gate  of  the  castle,  and  pit-falls,  covered  with  green  sods, 
having  sharp  stakes  driven  within,  scattered  round  it  on 
every  side — the  passage  through  these  being  only  known  to 
the  faithful  warders.  She  contrived,  besides,  a species  of 
defence  that  I have  not  seen  mentioned  in  the  Pacata 
Hibernia , or  any  of  the  murderous  annals  of  Ireland  : it 
consisted  of  a heavy  beam  of  wood,  well  loaded  with  iron  at 
the  bottom,  and  suspended  by  a pulley  and  cord  at  the  top 
of  the  castle,  and  which,  on  any  future  assault,  she  could 
let  down  through  the  projecting  hole  over  the  entrance  ; 
alternately,  and  with  the  aid  of  a few  strong  warders  above, 
raising  and  letting  it  drop  smash  among  the  enemy  who 
attempted  to  gain  admittance  below,  thereby  pounding 
them  as  if  with  a pestle  and  mortar,  without  the  power  of 
resistance  on  their  part. 

The  castle  vaults  were  well  victualled,  and  at  all  events 
could  safely  defy  any  attacks  of  hunger  ; and  as  the  enemy 
had  none  of  those  despotic  engines  called  cannon,  my  aunt’s 
garrison  were  in  all  points  in  tolerable  security.  Indeed, 
fortunately  for  Elizabeth,  there  was  not  a single  piece  of 
ordnance  in  the  country  except  those  few  which  were 
mounted  in  the  Fort  of  Dunnally,  or  travelled  with  the 
king’s  army  ; and,  to  speak  the  truth,  fire-arms  then  would 
have  been  of  little  use,  since  there  was  not  sufficient 
gun-powder  among  the  people  to  hold  an  hour’s  hard 
fighting. 

With  these  and  some  interior  defences,  Elizabeth 
imagined  herself  well  armed  against  all  marauders,  and 
quietly  awaited  a change  of  times  and  a period  of  general 
security. 


ELIZABETH  FITZGERALD. 


Close  to  the  castle  there  was,  and  I believe  still  remains, 
a dribbling  stream  of  water,  in  which  there  is  a large  stone 
with  a deep  indenture  on  the  top.  It  was  always  full  of 
limpid  water,  and  called  St.  Bridget’s  Well,  that  holy 
woman  having  been  accustomed  daily  to  kneel  in  prayer  on 
one  knee  till  she  wore  a hole  in  the  top  of  the  granite  by 
the  cap  of  her  pious  joint. 

To  this  well  old  Jug  Ogie,  the  oldest  piece  of  furniture 
in  Moret  Castle  (she  was  an  hereditary  cook),  daily  went  for 
the  purpose  of  drawing  the  most  sacred  crystal  she  could 
wherewith  to  boil  her  mistress’s  dinner  ; and  also,  as  the 
well  was  naturally  consecrated,  it  saved  the  priest  a quantity 
of  trouble  in  preparing  holy  water  for  the  use  of  the  warders. 

On  one  of  these  sallies  of  old  Jug,  some  fellows,  who,  as 
it  afterwards  appeared,  had  with  a very  deep  design  lain  in 
ambush,  seized  and  were  carrying  her  off,  when  they  were 
perceived  by  one  of  the  watchmen  from  the  tower,  who 
instantly  gave  an  alarm,  and  some  warders  sallied  after 
them.  Jug  was  rescued,  and  the  enemy  fled  through  the 
swamps  ; but  not  before  one  of  them  had  his  head  divided 
into  two  equal  parts  by  the  hatchet  of  Keeran  Karry,  who 
was  always  at  the  head  of  the  warders,  and  the  life  and  soul 
of  the  whole  garrison. 

The  dead  man  turned  out  to  be  a son  of  Andrew 
M'Mahon,  a faction  man  of  Reuben  ; but  nobody  could 
then  guess  the  motive  for  endeavouring  to  carry  off  old  Jug. 

However,  that  matter  soon  became  developed. 

Elizabeth  was  accounted  to  be  very  rich — the  cleverest 
woman  of  her  day — and  she  had  a large  demesne  into  the 
bargain  ; and  finding  the  sweets  of  independence,  she 
refused  matrimonial  offers  from  many  quarters  ; but  as  her 
castle  was,  for  those  days,  a durably  safe  residence,  such  as 
the  auctioneers  of  the  present  time  would  denominate  a 
genuine  undeniable  mansion , the  country  squires  determined 
she  should  marry  one  of  them,  since  marry  willingly  she 

(D-  311) 


c 


i8 


BARRINGTON’S  RECOLLECTIONS. 


would  not,  but  they  nearly  fell  to  loggerheads  who  should 
run  away  with  her.  Almost  every  one  of  them  had  pre- 
viously put  the  question  to  her  by  flag  of  truce , as  they  all 
stood  in  too  much  awe  of  the  lady  to  do  it  personally  ; and 
at  length,  teased  by  their  importunities,  she  gave  notice  of 
her  intention  to  hang  the  next  flag  of  truce  who  brought 
any  such  impudent  proposals. 

Upon  this  information  they  finally  agreed  to  decide  by 
lot  who  should  be  the  hero  to  surprise  and  carry  off  Eliza- 
beth, which  was  considered  a matter  of  danger  on  account 
of  the  warders,  who  would  receive  no  other  commandant. 

Elizabeth  got  wind  of  their  design  and  place  of  meeting, 
which  was  to  be  in  the  old  castle  of  Reuben,  near  Athy. 
Eleven  or  twelve  of  the  squires  privately  attended  at  the 
appointed  hour,  and  it  was  determined  that  whoever  should 
be  the  lucky  winner  was  to  receive  the  aid  and  assistance 
of  the  others  in  bearing  away  the  prize,  and  gaining  her 
hand.  To  this  effect  a league  offensive  and  defensive  was 
entered  into  between  them,  one  part  of  which  went  to 
destroy  Elizabeth’s  warders  root  and  branch  ; and  to  for- 
ward their  object  it  was  desirable,  if  possible,  to  procure 
some  inmate  of  the  castle,  who,  by  fair  or  foul  means, 
would  inform  them  of  the  best  mode  of  entry  : this  caused 
the  attempt  to  carry  off  old  Jug  Ogie. 

However,  they  were  not  long  in  want  of  a spy  : for 
Elizabeth,  hearing  of  their  plan  from  the  gassoon  of  Reuben, 
a nephew  of  Jug’s,  determined  to  take  advantage  of  it. 
“ My  lady,”  said  Jug  Ogie,  “ pretend  to  turn  me  adrift 
in  a dark  night,  and  give  out  that  my  gassoon  here  was 
found  robbing  you — they’ll  soon  get  wind  of  it,  and  I’ll 
be  the  very  person  the  squires  want,  and  then  you’ll  hear 
all.” 

The  matter  was  agreed  on,  and  old  Jug  Ogie  and  the 
gassoon  were  turned  out  as  thieves,  to  the  great  surprise  of 
the  warders  and  the  country.  But  Jug  was  found  and  hired, 


ELIZABETH  FITZGERALD. 


I9 


as  she  expected,  and  soon  comfortably  seated  in  the  kitchen 
at  Castle  Reuben,  with  the  gassoon  whom  she  took  in  as 
kitchen  boy.  She  gave  her  tongue  its  full  fling — told  a 
hundred  stories  about  her  “ devil  of  a mistress,”  and  under- 
took to  inform  the  squires  of  the  best  way  to  get  to  her 
apartment. 

Elizabeth  was  now  sure  to  learn  everything  so  soon  as 
determined  on.  The  faction  had  arranged  all  matters  for 
the  capture.  The  night  of  its  execution  approached.  The 
old  cook  prepared  a good  supper  for  the  quality — the 
squires  arrived,  and  the  gassoon  had  to  run  only  three  miles 
to  give  the  lady  the  intelligence.  Twelve  cavaliers  attended, 
each  accompained  by  one  of  the  ablest  of  his  faction,  for 
they  were  all  afraid  of  each  other  whenever  the  wine 
should  rise  upwards. 

The  lots,  being  formed  of  straws  of  different  lengths, 
were  held  by  the  host,  who  was  disinterested,  and  the  person 
of  Elizabeth,  her  fortune,  and  Moret  Castle  fell  to  the  lot 
of  Cromarty  O’Moore,  one  of  the  Cremorgan  squires,  and, 
according  to  tradition,  as  able-bodied,  stout  a man  as  any  in 
the  whole  county.  The  rest  all  swore  to  assist  him  till 
death  ; and  one  in  the  morning  was  the  time  appointed  for 
the  surprise  of  Elizabeth  and  her  castle,  while  in  the  mean- 
time they  began  to  enjoy  the  good  supper  of  old  Jug  Ogie. 

Castle  Reuben  had  been  one  of  the  strongest  places 
in  the  county,  situated  in  the  midst  of  a swamp,  which 
rendered  it  nearly  inaccessible.  It  had  belonged  to  a natural 
son  of  one  of  the  Geraldines,  who  had  his  throat  cut  by  a 
gamekeeper  of  his  own  ; and  nobody  choosing  to  interfere 
with  the  sportsman,  he  remained  peaceably  in  possession  of 
the  castle,  and  now  accommodated  the  squires  with  it 
during  their  plot  against  Elizabeth. 

That  heroic  dame,  on  her  part,  was  not  inactive  ; she 
informed  her  warders  of  the  scheme  to  force  a new  master 
on  her  and  them  ; and  many  a round  oath  she  swore  (with 


20 


BARRINGTON’S  RECOLLECTIONS. 


corresponding  gesticulations,  the  description  of  which 
would  not  be  over  agreeable  to  modern  readers),  that  she 
never  would  grant  her  favours  to  man,  but  preserve  her 
castle  and  her  chastity  to  the  last  extremity. 

The  warders  took  fire  at  the  attempt  of  the  squires.  They 
always  detested  the  defensive  system  ; and  probably  to  that 
hatred  may  be  attributed  a few  of  the  robberies,  burglaries, 
and  burnings  which  in  those  times  were  little  more  than 
occasional  pastimes. 

“ Arrah  ! lady,”  said  Keeran  Karry,  “ how  many  rogues 
’ill  there  be  at  Reuben,  as  you  larn,  to-night  ? — arrah  ! ” 

“ I hear  only  four-and-twenty,”  said  Elizabeth,  “ besides 
the  M‘ Mahons.” 

“ Right  a’nuff,”  said  Keeran,  “ the  fish  in  the  Barrow 
must  want  food  this  hard  weather  ; and  I can’t  see  why 
the  rump  of  a rapparee  may  not  make  as  nice  a tit-bit  for 
them  as  anything  else.” 

All  then  began  to  speak  together,  and  join  most  heartily 
in  the  meditated  attack. 

“ Arrah  ! run  for  the  priest,”  says  Ned  Regan,  “ maybe 
you’d  like  a touch  of  his  reverence’s  office  first,  for  fear  there 
might  be  any  sin  in  it.” 

“ I thought  you’d  like  him  with  your  brandy,  warders,” 
said  Elizabeth  with  dignity  ; “ I have  him  below  : he’s 
praying  a little,  and  will  be  up  directly.  The  whole  plan 
is  ready  for  you,  and  Jug  Ogie  has  the  signal.  Here, 
Keeran,”  giving  him  a green  ribbon  with  a daub  of  old 
Squire  Fitzgerald,  who  was  hanged,  dangling  to  the  ribbon, 
“ if  you  and  the  warders  do  not  bring  me  their  captain’s 
ear,  you  have  neither  the  courage  of  a weazel  nor — nor.” 
striking  her  breast  hard  with  her  able  hand,  “ even  the 
revenge  of  a woman  m you.” 

“ Arrah,  be  asy,  my  lady  ! ” said  Keeran,  “ be  asy  ! 
By  my  sowl,  we’ll  bring  you  four-and-twenty  pair,  if  your 
ladyship  have  any  longing  for  the  ears  of  such  villains.” 


ELIZABETH  FITZGERALD. 


21 


“ Now,  warders,”  said  Elizabeth,  who  was  too  cautious  to 
leave  her  castle  totally  unguarded,  “ as  we  are  going  to  be 
just,  let  us  be  also  generous  ; there’s  only  twenty-four  of 
them,  besides  the  McMahons,  will  be  there.  Now  it  would 
be  an  eternal  disgrace  to  Moret  if  we  went  to  overpower 
them  by  numbers  : twenty-four  chosen  warders,  Father 
Murphy  and  the  corporal,  the  gassoon  and  the  piper,  are 
all  that  shall  leave  the  castle  to-night ; and  if  Castle  Reuben 
is  let  to  stand  till  day-break  to-morrow  I hope  none  of  you 
will  come  back  to  me  again.” 

The  priest  now  made  his  appearance  ; he  certainly 
seemed  rather  as  if  he  had  not  been  idle  below  during  the 
colloquy  on  the  leads  ; and  the  deep  impressions  upon  the 
bottle  which  he  held  in  his  hand  gave  grounds  to  suppose 
that  he  had  been  very  busy  and  earnest  in  his  devotions. 

“ My  flock  ! ” said  Father  Murphy  rather  lispingly. 

“ Arrah  ! ” said  Keeran  Karry,  “ we’re  not  sheep  to- 
night : never  mind  your  flocks  just  now,  father  ! give  us 
a couple  of  glasses  a piece  ! time  enough  for  mutton- 
making.” 

“ You  are  right,  my  chickens  ! ” bellowed  forth  Father 
Murphy,  throwing  his  old  black  surtout  over  his  shoulder, 
leaving  the  empty  sleeves  dangling  at  full  liberty,  and 
putting  a knife  and  fork  in  his  pocket  for  ulterior  operations. 
“ I forgive  every  mother’s  babe  of  you  everything  you 
choose  to  do  till  sun-rise  ; but  if  you  commit  any  sin  after 
that  time,  as  big  even  as  the  blacks  of  my  nele,  I can’t  take 
charge  of  yeer  sowls  without  a chance  of  disappointing 
you.” 

All  was  now  in  a bustle — the  brandy  circulated  merrily, 
and  each  warder  had  in  his  own  mind  made  mince-meat 
of  three  or  four  of  the  Reuben  faction,  whose  ears  they 
fancied  already  in  their  pockets.  The  priest  marked  down 
the  “ De  profundis  ” in  the  leaves  of  his  double  manual, 
to  have  it  ready  for  the  burials — every  man  took  his  skeen 


22 


Barrington’s  recollections. 


in  his  belt — had  a thick  club,  with  a strong  spike  at  the  end 
of  it,  slung  with  a stout  leather  thong  to  his  wrist,  and 
under  his  coat  a sharp,  broad  hatchet  with  a black  blade 
and  a crooked  handle.  And  thus,  in  silence,  the  twenty- 
five  Moret  warders  set  out  with  their  priest,  the  piper, 
and  the  gassoon,  with  a copper  pot  slung  over  his  shoulders 
and  a piece  of  a poker  in  his  hand,  on  their  jgxpedition  to 
the  castle  of  Reuben. 

Before  twelve  o’clock  the  warders,  the  priest,  Keeran 
Karry,  and  the  castle  piper  had  arrived  in  the  utmost 
silence  and  secrecy.  In  that  sort  of  large  inhabited  castle 
the  principal  entrance  was  through  the  farmyard,  which 
was,  indeed,  generally  the  only  assailable  quarter.  In  the 
present  instance  the  gate  was  half  open,  and  the  house 
lights  appeared  to  have  been  collected  in  the  rear,  as  was 
judged  from  their  reflection  in  the  water  of  Barrow,  which 
ran  close  under  the  windows.  A noise  was  heard,  but  not 
of  drunkenness — it  was  a sound  as  of  preparation  for  battle. 
Now  and  then  a clash  of  steel,  as  if  persons  were  practising 
at  the  sword  or  skeen  for  the  offensive,  was  going  forward 
in  the  back  hall,  and  a loud  laugh  was  occasionally  heard. 
The  warders  foresaw  it  would  not  be  so  easy  a business  as 
they  had  contemplated,  and  almost  regretted  that  they  had 
not  brought  a less  chivalrous  numerical  force. 

It  was  concerted  that  ten  men  should  creep  upon  their 
hands  and  feet  to  the  front  entrance,  and  await  there  until, 
by  some  accident,  it  might  be  sufficiently  open  for  the 
ferocious  rush  which  was  to  surprise  their  opponents. 

But  Keeran,  always  discreet,  had  some  forethought  that 
more  than  usual  caution  would  be  requisite.  He  had 
counted  on  dangers  which  the  others  had  never  dreamt  of, 
and  his  prudence,  in  all  probability,  saved  the  lives  of  many 
of  the  warders.  He  preceded  his  men,  crawling  nearly  on 
his  breast  ; he  had  suspected  that  a dog  overheard  them, 
and  a bark  soon  confirmed  the  truth  of  that  suspicion,  and 


ELIZABETH  FITZGERALD. 


23 


announced  the  possibility  of  discovery.  Keeran,  however, 
was  prepared  for  this  circumstance  ; he  had  filled  his  pockets 
with  pieces  of  bacon  impregnated  with  a concentrated  pre- 
paration of  nux  vomica,  then,  and  at  a much  later  period, 
well  known  to  the  clergy  and  spirituals,  I cannot  tell  for 
what  purpose,  nor  shall  I here  inquire.  Its  effect  on  dogs 
was  instantaneous  ; and  the  savoury  bacon  having  rendered 
them  quite  greedy  to  devour  it,  it  had  now  an  immediate 
effect  on  two  great  mastiffs  and  a wolf-dog  who  roamed 
about  the  yard  at  nights.  On  taking  each  a portion,  they 
quickly  resigned  their  share  of  the  contest  without  further 
noise. 

Keeran  advanced  crawling  to  the  door  ; he  found  it  fast, 
but  having  listened,  he  soon  had  reason  to  conjecture  that 
the  inmates  were  too  well  armed  and  numerous  to  make 
the  result  of  the  battle  at  all  certain.  He  crept  back  to  the 
hedge,  and  having  informed  the  warders  of  the  situation  in 
which  they  were  placed,  they  one  and  all  swore  that  they 
would  enter  or  die.  The  priest  had  lain  himself  down  under 
a hay-stack  in  the  outer  hay-yard,  and  the  piper  had  retired 
nobody  knew  where,  nor  in  fact  did  anybody  care  much 
about  him,  as  he  was  but  a very  indifferent  chanter. 

Keeran  now  desired  the  warders  to  handle  their  hatchets, 
and  be  prepared  for  an  attack  so  soon  as  they  should  see  the 
front  door  open  and  hear  three  strokes  on  the  copper  kettle. 
The  gassoon  had  left  that  machine  on  a spot  which  he  had 
described  near  the  gate,  and  Keeran  requested  that,  in  case 
of  any  fire,  they  should  not  mind  it  till  the  kettle  sounded. 
He  then  crawled  away,  and  they  saw  no  more  of  him. 

The  moments  were  precious,  and  seemed  to  advance  too 
fast.  At  one  o’clock  a body  armed  possibly  better  than 
themselves,  and  probably  more  numerous,  would  surely 
issue  from  the  castle  on  their  road  to  Moret,  well  prepared 
for  combat.  The  result  in  such  a case  might  be  very  pre- 
carious. The  warders  by  no  means  felt  pleased  with  their 


24 


Barrington’s  recollections. 


situation  ; and  the  absence  of  their  leader,  priest,  and  piper 
gave  no  additional  ideas  of  conquest  or  security.  In  this 
state  of  things  near  half  an  hour  had  elapsed,  when  of  a sudden 
they  perceived,  on  the  side  of  the  hay-yard  towards  their 
own  position,  a small  blaze  of  fire  issufc  from  a corn- "tack — 
in  a moment  another,  and  another  ! The  conflagration  was 
most  impetuous  ; it  appeared  to  be  devouring  everything, 
but  as  yet  was  not  perceived  by  the  inmates  at  the  rear  of 
the  house.  At  length,  volumes  of  flame  illuminated  by 
reflection  the  waters  of  the  river  under  the  back  windows. 
The  warders  now  expecting  the  sally,  rubbed  their  hands 
well  with  bees’  wax,  and  grasped  tightly  their  hatchets, 
yet  moved  not — breathless  with  a ferocious  anxiety,  they 
awaited  the  event  in  almost  maddening  suspense.  A loud 
noise  now  issued  from  the  interior  of  the  house  ; the  fire 
was  perceived  by  the  garrison — still  it  might  be  accidental — 
the  front  door  was  thrown  open,  and  nearly  thirty  of  the 
inmates  poured  out,  some  fully,  others  not  fully  armed. 
They  rushed  into  the  hay- yard  ; some  cried  out  it  was 
“ treachery  ! ” whilst  others  vociferated  “ accident  ! ac- 
cident ! ” All  was  confusion,  and  many  a stout  head 
afterwards  paid  for  its  incredulity. 

At  that  moment  the  copper  kettle  was  beaten  rapidly  and 
with  force — a responsive  sound  issued  from  the  house — 
the  garrison  hesitated,  but  hesitation  was  quickly  banished  ; 
for  on  the  first  blow  of  the  kettle,  the  warders,  in  a compact 
body,  with  hideous  yells,  rushed  on  the  astonished  garrison, 
who  had  no  conception  who  their  enemies  could  be.  Every 
hatchet  found  its  victim  ; limbs,  features,  hands,  were 
chopped  off  without  mercy — death  or  dismemberment 
followed  nearly  every  blow  of  that  brutal  weapon,  whilst 
the  broad,  sharp  skeens  soon  searched  the  bodies  of  the 
wounded,  and  almost  half  the  garrison  were  annihilated 
before  they  were  aware  of  the  foe  by  whom  they  had  been 
surprised.  The  survivers,  however,  soon  learned  the 


ELIZABETH  FITZGERALD. 


25 


cause,  perhaps  merited,  of  their  comrades’  slaughter.  The 
war-cry  of  “ A Gerald  ! a Gerald  ! a Gerald  ! ” — which 
now  accompanied  every  crash  of  the  murderous  hatchet, 
or  every  plunge  of  the  broad-bladed  skeen,  informed  them 
who  they  were  fighting  with  ; fifteen  or  sixteen  still  remained 
unwounded  of  the  garrison — their  case  was  desperate. 
Keeran  Karry  now  headed  his  warders.  The  gassoon 
rapidly  and  fiercely  struck  the  copper  in  unison  with  the 
sound  of  the  fatal  weapons,  whilst  the  old  and  decrepit 
Tug  Ogie,  within  the  castle,  repeated  the  same  sound,  thereby 
leading  the  garrison  to  believe  that  to  retreat  inside  the  walls 
would  only  be  to  encounter  a fresh  enemy. 

The  affair,  however,  was  far  from  being  finished — the 
survivors  rapidly  retired,  and  got  in  a body  to  the  position 
first  occupied  by  Keeran ’s  warders.  They  were  desperate 
— they  knew  they  must  die,  and  determined  not  to  go  alone 
to  the  other  regions.  The  flames  still  raged  with  irresistible 
fury  in  the  hay- yard.  It  was  Keeran  who  had  set  fire  to  the 
corn  and  hay,  which  materials  produced  an  almost  super- 
natural height  of  blaze  and  impetuosity  of  conflagration. 
The  survivors  of  the  garrison  were  at  once  fortified,  and 
concealed  from  view  by  a high  holly  hedge,  and  awaited 
their  turn  to  become  assailants — it  soon  arrived.  From  the 
midst  of  the  burning  ricks  in  the  hay- yard  a shrill  and 
piercing  cry  was  heard  to  issue,  of  “ Ough,  murther, 
murther  ! — the  devil — the  devil  ! ough,  Holy  Virgin,  save 
me  ! if  there  is  any  marcy,  save  me  ! ” The  voice  was  at 
once  recognised  by  the  warriors  of  Moret  as  that  of  their 
priest,  Ned  Murphy,  who  had  fallen  asleep  under  a hay- 
stack, and  never  awakened  till  the  flames  had  seized  upon 
his  cloak.  Bewildered,  he  knew  not  how  to  escape,  being 
met  wherever  he  ran  by  crackling  masses.  He  roared  and 
cursed  to  the  full  extent  of  his  voice,  and  gave  himself  up 
for  lost,  though  fortunately,  as  the  materials  of  his  habit 
did  not  associate  with  flame,  he  was  not  dangerously 


26 


Barrington’s  recollections. 


burned,  although  he  suffered  somewhat  in  his  legs.  No 
sooner  did  they  perceive  his  situation  than  the  warders, 
each  man  forgetting  himself,  rushed  to  save  their  “ clergy,” 
on  whom  they  conceived  their  own  salvation  entirely  to 
depend.  They  now  imagined  that  the  fight  was  ended, 
and  prepared  to  enjoy  themselves  by  the  plunder  of  Castle 
Reuben. 

This  was  the  moment  for  the  defeated  garrison — with  a 
loud  yell  of  “ A Moore,  a Moore  ! a Moore  ! ” they  fell  in 
their  turn  upon  the  entangled  warders  in  the  hay-yard,  five 
of  whom  had  been  wounded  and  one  killed  in  the  first 
fray,  whilst  many  had  subsequently  thrown  down  their 
hatchets  to  receive  their  pastor,  and  had  only  their  spikes 
and  skeens  wherewith  to  defend  themselves.  The  battle 
now  became  more  serious,  because  more  doubtful,  than  at 
its  commencement.  Several  of  the  warders  were  wounded, 
and  four  more  lay  dead  at  the  entrance  to  the  hay- yard  ; 
their  spirit  was  dashed,  and  their  adversaries  laid  on  with 
the  fury  of  desperation.  Keeran  Karry  had  received  two 
sword-thrusts  through  his  shoulder,  and  could  fight  no 
more  ; but  he  could  do  better — he  could  command.  He 
called  to  the  warders  to  retreat  and  take  possession  of  the 
castle,  which  was  now  untenanted  : this  step  saved  them  ; 
they  retired  thither  with  all  possible  rapidity,  pursued  by 
the  former  garrison  of  the  place,  who,  however,  were  not 
able  to  enter  with  them,  but  killed  another  man  before 
the  doors  were  fast  closed.  Keeran  directed  the  thick 
planks  and  flag  stones  to  be  torn  up,  thereby  leaving  the  hall 
open  to  the  cellar  beneath,  as  had  been  done  at  Moret. 
The  enemy  were  at  bay  at  the  door,  and  could  not  advance  ; 
but,  on  the  other  hand,  many  of  the  warders  having,  as 
before  stated,  flung  away  their  hatchets,  were  ill-armed. 
The  moment  was  critical  : Keeran,  however,  was  never 
at  a loss  for  some  expedient  ; he  counted  his  men  ; five 
had  been  killed  in  the  hay-yard,  and  one  just  outside  the 


ELIZABETH  FITZGERALD. 


27 

walls  ; several  others  were  wounded,  amongst  whom 
was  the  piper,  who  had  been  asleep.  Keeran  told  the 
warders  that  he  feared  the  sun  might  rise  on  their  destruc- 
tion if  something  were  not  immediately  done.  “ Are 
there,”  said  he,  “ five  among  ye  who  are  willing  to  swap 
your  lives  for  the  victory  ? ” Every  man  cried  out  for 
himself,  and  I ! I ! I ! echoed  through  the  hall.  “ Well  ! ” 
said  Keeran,  who  without  delay  directed  five  men,  and  the 
gassoon  with  the  copper  kettle,  to  steal  out  at  the  back  of 
the  castle,  creep  through  the  hedges,  and  get  round  directly 
into  the  rear  of  the  foe  before  they  attacked  ; having  suc- 
ceeded in  which,  they  were  immediately  to  advance,  beating 
the  vessel  strongly.  “ They  will  suppose,”  said  the  warlike 
Keeran,  “ that  it  is  a reinforcement,  and  we  shall  then 
return  the  sound  from  within.  If  they  believe  it  to  be  a 
reinforcement  they  will  submit  to  mercy  : if  not,  we’ll 
attack  them  front  and  rear  ; and  as  our  numbers  are  pretty 
equal,  very  few  of  us  on  either  side  will  tell  the  story  to  our 
childer  ; but  we’ll  have  as  good  a chance  as  them  villains.” 
This  scheme  was  carried  into  immediate  execution,  and 
completely  succeeded.  The  enemy,  who  were  now  grouped 
outside  the  door,  hearing  the  kettle  in  the  rear,  supposed 
that  they  should  be  at  once  attacked  by  sally  and  from 
behind.  Thinking  that  they  had  now  only  to  choose 
between  death  and  submission,  the  mercy  which  was  offered 
they  accepted  ; and  peep  o’  day  being  arrived,  the  van- 
quished agreed  to  throw  their  arms  into  the  well — to  swear 
before  the  priest  that  they  never  would  disturb  or  aid  in 
disturbing  Lady  Elizabeth  or  the  castle  of  Moret  ; that  no 
man  on  either  side  should  be  called  upon  by  law  for  his 
fighting  that  night  ; and  finally,  that  the  person  who  had 
succeeded  in  drawing  the  lot  for  Elizabeth  should  deliver 
up  the  lock  of  his  hair  that  grew  next  his  ear  to  testify  his 
submission  : this  latter  clause,  however,  was  stipulated 
needlessly,  as  Cromarty  O’Moore  was  discovered  in  the 


28 


Barrington’s  recollections. 


farmyard  with  nearly  all  his  face  cut  off,  and  several  skeen 
wounds  in  his  arms  and  body.  Early  in  the  morning  the 
dead  were  buried  without  noise  or  disturbance,  and  both 
parties  breakfasted  together  in  perfect  cordiality  and  good 
humour  : those  who  fell  were  mostly  tenants  of  the  squires. 
The  priest,  having  had  his  burnt  legs  and  arm  dressed  with 
chewed  herbs  by  Jug  Ogie,  said  a full  mass,  and  gave  all 
parties  double  absolution,  as  the  affair  was  completed  by 
the  rising  of  the  sun.  The  yard  was  cleared  of  blood  and 
havoc  ; the  warders  and  garrison  parted  in  perfect  friend- 
ship ; and  the  former  returned  to  the  castle,  bringing  back 
Jug  Ogie  to  her  impatient  mistress.  Of  the  warders  thirteen 
returned  safe,  six  remained  behind  badly  wounded,  and  six 
were  dead.  Keeran’s  wounds  were  severe,  but  they  soon 
healed  ; and  Elizabeth  afterwards  resided  at  Moret  to  a very 
late  period  in  the  reign  of  George  the  First.  Reuben  soon 
changed  its  occupant,  M‘Mahon,  who  was  hanged  for  the 
murder  of  his  master  ; and  that  part  of  the  country  has 
since  become  one  of  the  most  civilised  of  the  whole  province. 

I have  given  the  foregoing  little  history  in  full,  inasmuch 
as  it  is  but  little  known,  is  strictly  matter  of  fact,  and  exhibits 
a curious  picture  of  the  state  of  Irish  society  and  manners  in 
or  about  the  year  1690. 


IRISH  GENTRY  AND  THEIR  RETAINERS. 


29 


CHAPTER  III. 

IRISH  GENTRY  AND  THEIR  RETAINERS. 

The  numerous  and  remarkable  instances  which  came  within 
my  own  observation  of  mutual  attachment  between  the 
Irish  peasantry  and  their  landlords  in  former  times  would 
fill  volumes.  A few  only  will  suffice,  in  addition  to  what 
has  already  been  stated,  to  shew  the  nature  of  that  reci- 
procal good-will  which  on  many  occasions  was  singularly 
useful  to  both  : and  in  selecting  these  instances  from  such 
as  occurred  in  my  own  family,  I neither  mean  to  play  the 
vain  egotist  nor  to  determine  generals  by  particulars,  since 
good  landlords  and  attached  peasantry  were  then  spread 
over  the  entire  face  of  Ireland,  and  bore  a great  proportion 
to  the  whole  country. 

I remember  that  a very  extensive  field  of  corn  of  my 
father’s  had  once  become  too  ripe,  inasmuch  as  all  the 
reapers  in  the  country  were  employed  in  getting  in  their 
own  scanty  crops  before  they  shedded.  Some  of  the  ser- 
vants had  heard  my  father  regret  that  he  could  not  by 
possibility  get  in  his  reapers  without  taking  them  from  these 
little  crops,  and  that  he  would  sooner  lose  his  own. 

This  field  was  within  full  view  of  our  windows.  My 
father  had  given  up  the  idea  of  being  able  to  cut  his  corn 
in  due  time.  One  morning,  when  he  rose,  he  could  not 
believe  his  sight — he  looked,  rubbed  his  eyes,  called  the 
servants  and  asked  them  if  they  saw  anything  odd  in  the 
field — they  certainly  did — for,  on  our  family  retiring  to  rest 
the  night  before,  the  whole  body  of  the  peasantry  of  the 
country,  after  their  hard  labour  during  the  day,  had  come 
upon  the  great  field  and  had  reaped  and  stacked  it^before 
dawn  ! None  of  them  would  even  tell  him  who  had  a hand 


3° 


Barrington’s  recollections. 


in  it.  Similar  instances  of  affection  repeatedly  took  place  ; 
and  no  tenant  on  any  of  the  estates  of  my  family  was  ever 
distrained,  or  even  pressed  for  rent.  Their  gratitude  for 
this  knew  no  bounds  ; and  the  only  individuals  who  ever 
annoyed  them  were  the  parsons  by  their  proctors,  and  the 
tax-gatherers  for  hearth-money  ; and  though  hard  cash  was 
scant  with  both  landlord  and  tenant,  and  no  small  bank- 
notes had  got  into  circulation,  provisions  were  plentiful, 
and  but  little  inconvenience  was  experienced  by  the  pea- 
santry from  want  of  a circulating  medium.  There  was  con- 
stant residence  and  work  : no  banks  and  no  machinery  ; 
and  though  the  people  might  not  be  quite  so  refined,  most 
undoubtedly  they  were  vastly  happier. 

But  a much  more  characteristic  proof  than  the  foregoing 
of  the  extraordinary  devotion  of  the  lower  to  the  higher 
orders  in  Ireland  in  former  times  occurred  in  my  family,  and 
is  on  record. 

My  grandfather,  Mr.  French,  of  County  Galway,  was  a 
remarkably  small,  nice  little  man,  but  of  an  extremely  irri- 
table temperament.  He  was  an  excellent  swordsman  ; and, 
as  was  often  the  case  in  that  county,  proud  to  excess. 

Some  relics  of  feudal  arrogance  frequently  set  the  neigh- 
bours and  their  adherents  together  by  the  ears.  My  grand- 
father had  conceived  a contempt  for  and  antipathy  to  a 
sturdy  half-mounted  gentleman,  one  Mr.  Dennis  Bodkin, 
who,  having  an  independent  mind,  entertained  an  equal 
aversion  to  the  arrogance  of  my  grandfather,  and  took  every 
possible  opportunity  of  irritating  and  opposing  him. 

My  grandmother,  an  O’Brien,  was  high  and  proud — • 
steady  and  sensible  ; but  disposed  to  be  rather  violent 
at  times  in  her  contempts  and  animosities,  and  entirely 
agreed  with  her  husband  in  his  detestation  of  Mr.  Dennis 
Bodkin. 

On  some  occasion  or  other  Mr.  Dennis  had  outdone  his 
usual  outdoings,  and  chagrined  the  squire  and  his  lady 


IRISH  GENTRY  AND  THEIR  RETAINERS. 


31 


most  outrageously.  A large  company  dined  at  my  grand- 
father’s, and  grandmother  launched  out  in  her  abuse  of 
Dennis,  concluding  her  exordium  by  an  hyperbole  of  hatred 
expressed,  but  not  at  all  meant,  in  these  words  : — “ I wish 
the  fellow’s  ears  were  cut  off  ! that  might  quiet  him.” 

It  passed  over  as  usual  : the  subject  was  changed,  and  all 
went  on  comfortably  till  supper  ; at  which  time,  when  every- 
body was  in  full  glee,  the  old  butler,  Ned  Regan,  who  had 
drunk  enough,  came  in — joy  was  in  his  eye  ; and  whispering 
something  to  his  mistress  which  she  did  not  comprehend,  he 
put  a large  snuff-box  into  her  hand.  Fancying  it  was  some 
whim  of  her  old  domestic,  she  opened  the  box  and  shook 
out  its  contents — when  lo  ! a considerable  portion  of  a pair 
of  bloody  ears  dropped  on  the  table  ! The  horror  and 
surprise  of  the  company  may  be  conceived  : upon  which 
old  Ned  exclaimed — “ Sure,  my  lady,  you  wished  that 
Dennis  Bodkin’s  ears  were  cut  off;  so  I told  old  Gahagan, 
the  gamekeeper,  and  he  took  a few  boys  with  him  and 
brought  back  Dennis  Bodkin’s  ears,  and  there  they  are  ; 
and  I hope  you  are  plazed,  my  lady  ! ” 

The  scene  may  be  imagined,  but  its  results  had  like  to 
have  been  of  a more  serious  nature.  The  sportsman  and 
the  boys  were  ordered  to  get  off  as  fast  as  they  could  ; but 
my  grandfather  and  grandmother  were  held  to  heavy  bail, 
and  were  tried  at  the  ensuing  assizes  at  Galway.  The 
evidence  of  the  entire  company,  however,  united  in  proving 
that  my  grandmother  never  had  an  idea  of  any  such  order, 
and  that  it  was  a mistake  on  the  part  of  the  servants.  They 
were,  of  course,  acquitted.  The  sportsman  never  re- 
appeared in  the  county  till  after  the  death  of  Dennis  Bodkin, 
which  took  place  three  years  subsequently. 

This  anecdote  may  give  the  reader  an  idea  of  the  devo- 
tion of  servants  in  those  days  to  their  masters.  The  order 
of  things  is  now  reversed,  and  the  change  of  times  cannot 
be  better  proved  than  by  the  propensity  servants  now  have 


32 


Barrington’s  reflections. 


to  rob,  and,  if  convenient,  murder  the  families  from  whom 
they  derive  their  daily  bread.  Where  the  remote  error  lies 
I know  not,  but  certainly  the  ancient  fidelity  of  domestics 
seems  to  be  totally  out  of  fashion  with  those  gentry  at 
present. 

A more  recent  instance  of  the  same  feeling  as  that  illus- 
trated by  the  two  former  anecdotes — namely,  the  devotion 
of  the  country  people  to  old  settlers  and  families — occurred 
to  myself,  which,  as  I am  upon  the  subject,  I will  now 
mention.  I stood  a contested  election  in  the  year  1790 
for  the  borough  of  Ballynakill,  for  which  my  ancestors  had 
returned  two  members  to  Parliament  during  nearly  200 
years.  It  was  usurped  by  the  Marquis  of  Drogheda,  and 
I contested  it. 

On  the  day  of  the  election,  my  eldest  brother  and  myself 
being  candidates,  and  the  business  preparing  to  begin,  a 
cry  was  heard  that  the  whole  colliery  was  coming  down 
from  Donane,  about  ten  miles  off.  The  returning  officer, 
Mr.  French,  lost  no  time  : six  voters  were  polled  against 
me  ; mine  were  refused  generally  in  mass  ; the  books  were 
repacked,  and  the  poll  declared — the  election  ended,  and 
my  opponents  just  retiring  from  the  town,  when  seven  or 
eight  hundred  colliers  entered  it  with  colours  flying  and 
pipers  playing  ; their  faces  were  all  blackened,  and  a more 
tremendous  assemblage  was  scarce  ever  seen.  After  the 
usual  shoutings,  etc.,  the  chief  captain  came  up  to  me  : — 
“ Counsellor,  dear  ! ” said  he,  “ we’re  all  come  from  Donane 
to  help  your  honour  against  the  villains  that  oppose  you. 
We’re  the  boys  that  can  titivate  ! — Barrington  for  ever  ! 
hurra  ! ” Then  coming  close  to  me,  and  lowering  his  tone, 
he  added — “ Counsellor,  jewel  ! which  of  the  villains  shall 
we  settle  first  ? ” 

To  quiet  him  I shook  his  black  hand,  told  him  nobody 
shouid  be  hurt,  and  that  the  gentlemen  had  all  left  the 
town. 


IRISH  GENTRY  AND  THEIR  RETAINERS. 


33 

“ Why,  then,  counsellor,’’  said  he,  “ we’ll  be  after  over- 
taking them.  Barrington  for  ever  ! — Donane,  boys  ! ” 

I feared  that  I had  no  control  over  the  riotous  humour 
of  the  colliers,  and  knew  but  one  mode  of  keeping  them 
quiet.  I desired  Billy  Howard,  the  innkeeper,  to  bring  out 
all  the  ale  he  had  ; and  having  procured  many  barrels  in 
addition,  together  with  all  the  bread  and  cheese  in  the 
place,  I set  them  at  it  as  hard  as  might  be.  I told  them 
I was  sure  of  being  elected  in  Dublin,  and  “ to  stay  azy  ” 
(their  own  language),  and  in  a little  time  I made  them  /. s 
tractable  as  lambs.  They  made  a bonfire  in  the  evening, 
and  about  ten  o’clock  I left  them  as  happy  and  merry  a 
set  of  colliers  as  ever  existed.  Such  as  were  able  strolled 
back  in  the  night,  and  the  others  next  morning,  and  not 
the  slightest  injury  was  done  to  anybody  or  anything. 

This  was  a totally  unexpected  and  voluntary  proof  of  the 
disinterested  and  ardent  attachment  of  the  Irish  country 
people  to  all  whom  they  thought  would  protect  or  procure 
them  justice. 


(D  311) 


D 


34 


Barrington's  recollections. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

MY  EDUCATION. 

My  godfathers  were  Mr.  Pool,  of  Ballyfin,  and  Captain 
Pigott,  of  Brocologh  Park  ; and  I must  have  been  a very 
pleasant  infant,  for  Mr.  Pool,  having  no  children,  desired 
to  take  me  home  with  him,  in  which  case  I should  probably 
have  cut  out  of  feather  a very  good  person  and  a very  kind 
friend — the  present  Lord  Maryborough,  whom  Mr.  Pool 
afterwards  adopted  whilst  a midshipman  in  the  navy,  and 
bequeathed  a noble  demesne  and  a splendid  estate  near 
my  father’s.  My  family  have  always  supported  Lord 
Maryborough  for  Queen’s  County,  and  his  Lordship’s 
tenants  supported  me  in  my  hard-contested  election  for 
Maryborough  in  1800. 

No  public  functionary  could  act  more  laudably  than  Mr. 
Pool  did  whilst  secretary  in  Ireland  ; and  it  must  be  a high 
gratification  to  him  to  reflect  that,  in  the  year  1800,  he  did 
not  abet  the  degradation  of  his  country. 

Captain  Pigott  expressed  the  same  desire  to  patronise 
me  as  Mr.  Pool,  received  a similar  refusal,  and  left  his 
property,  I believe,  to  a parcel  of  hospitals  ; whilst  I was 
submitted  to  the  guardianship  of  Colonel  Jonah  Barrington, 
and  the  instructions  of  Mr.  Michael  Lodge,  a person  of 
very  considerable  consequence  in  my  early  memoirs,  and  to 
whose  ideas  and  eccentricities  I really  believe  I am  indebted 
for  a great  proportion  of  my  own,  and  certainly  not  the 
worst  of  them. 

Mr.  George  Lodge  had  married  a love-daughter  of  old 
Stephen  Fitzgerald,  Esq.,  of  Bally  Thomas,  who  by  affinity 
was  a relative  of  the  house  of  Cullenaghmore,  and  from 
this  union  sprang  Mr.  Michael  Lodge. 


MY  EDUCATION. 


35 


I never  shall  forget  his  figure  ! — he  was  a tall  man  with 
thin  legs  and  great  hands,  and  was  generally  biting  one  of 
his  nails  whilst  employed  in  teaching  me.  The  top  of  his 
head  was  half  bald  ; his  hair  was  clubbed  with  a rose-ribbon ; 
a tight  stock,  with  a large  silver  buckle  to  it  behind,  appeared 
to  be  almost  choking  him  ; his  chin  and  jaws  were  very  long  ; 
and  he  used  to  hang  his  under  jaw,  shut  one  eye,  and  look 
up  to  the  ceiling,  when  he  was  thinking  or  trying  to  recollect 
anything. 

Mr.  Michael  Lodge  had  been  what  is  called  a matross  in 
the  artillery  service.  My  grandfather  had  got  him  made  a 
gauger,  but  he  was  turned  adrift  for  letting  a poor  man  do 
something  wrong  about  distilling.  He  then  became  a land 
surveyor  and  architect  for  the  farmers  ; he  could  farry,  cure 
cows  of  the  murrain,  had  numerous  secrets  about  cattle  and 
physic,  and  was  accounted  the  best  bleeder  and  bone-setter 
in  that  county — all  of  which  healing  accomplishments  he 
exercised  gratis.  He  was  also  a famous  brewer  and  account- 
ant— in  fine,  was  everything  at  Cullenagh — steward,  agent, 
caterer,  farmer,  sportsman,  secretary,  clerk  to  the  colonel  as 
a magistrate,  and  also  a clerk  to  Mr.  Barret  as  the  parson  ; 
but  he  would  not  sing  a stave  in  church,  though  he’d  chant 
indefatigably  in  the  hall.  He  had  the  greatest  contempt  for 
women,  and  used  to  beat  the  maid-servants  ; whilst  the  men 
durst  not  vex  him,  as  he  was  quite  despotic  ! He  had  a 
turning  lathe,  a number  of  grinding-stones,  and  a carpenter’s 
bench  in  his  room.  He  used  to  tin  the  saucepans,  which 
act  he  called  chymistry  ; and  I have  seen  him,  like  a tailor, 
putting  a new  cape  to  his  riding-coat  ! He  made  all  sorts  of 
nets,  and  knit  stockings  ; but  above  all  he  piqued  himself 
on  the  variety  and  depth  of  his  learning . 

Under  the  tuition  of  this  Mr.  Michael  Lodge,  who  was 
surnamed  the  “ wise  man  of  Cullenaghmore,”  I was  placed, 
at  four  years  of  age,  to  learn  as  much  of  the  foregoing  as  he 
could  teach  me  in  the  next  five  years  ; at  the  expiration  of 


36 


Barrington’s  recollections. 


which  period  he  had  no  doubt  of  my  knowing  as  much  as 
himself,  and  then,  he  said,  I should  go  to  school  “ to  teach 
the  master  .” 

This  idea  of  teaching  the  master  was  the  greatest  possible 
incitement  to  me  ; and  as  there  was  no  other  child  in  the 
house,  I never  was  idle,  but  was  as  inquisitive  and  trouble- 
some as  can  be  imagined.  Everything  was  explained  to  me  ; 
and  I not  only  got  on  surprisingly,  but  my  memory  was 
found  to  be  so  strong  that  Mr.  Michael  Lodge  told  my 
grandfather  half  learning  would  answer  me  as  well  as  whole 
learning  would  another  child.  In  truth,  before  my  sixth 
year,  I was  making  a very  great  hole  in  Mr.  Lodge’s  stock 
of  information,  fortification  and  gunnery  excepted  ; and  I 
verily  believe  he  only  began  to  learn  many  things  himself, 
when  he  commenced  teaching  them  to  me. 

He  took  me  a regular  course  by  Horn-hook , Primer 
Spelling-book , Reading  made  Easy , /Esop's  Fables , etc.  ; but 
I soon  aspired  to  such  of  the  old  library  books  as  had  pictures 
in  them,  and  particularly  a very  large  History  of  the  Bible 
with  cuts  was  my  constant  study.  Hence  I knew  how 
every  saint  was  murdered  ; and  Mr.  Lodge  not  only  told 
me  that  each  martyr  had  a painter  to  take  his  likeness 
before  death,  but  also  fully  explained  to  me  how  they  had 
all  sat  for  their  pictures,  and  assured  me  that  most  of  them 
had  been  murdered  by  the  Papists.  I recollect  at  this  day 
the  faces  of  every  one  of  them  at  their  time  of  martyrdom — 
so  strongly  do  youthful  impressions  sink  into  the  mind 
when  derived  from  objects  which  at  the  time  were  viewed 
with  interest.  Formerly  the  chimneys  were  all  covered 
with  tilesy  having  Scripture-pieces,  examples  of  natural 
history,  etc.,  daubed  on  them  ; and  there  being  a great 
variety,  the  father  or  mother,  sitting  of  a winter’s  evening 
round  the  hearth  with  the  young  ones,  explained  the  meaning 
of  the  tiles  out  of  the  Bible,  etc.  ; so  that  the  impression 
was  made  without  being  called  a lesson,  and  the  child 


MY  EDUCATION. 


37 


acquired  knowledge  without  thinking  that  it  was  being 
taught.  So  far  as  it  went,  this  was  one  of  the  best  modes 
of  instruction. 

Be  this  as  it  may,  however,  my  wise  man,  Mr.  Michael 
Lodge,  used  his  heart,  head,  and  hands  as  zealously  as 
he  could  to  teach  me  most  things  that  he  did  know,  and 
many  things  he  did  not  know  ; but  with  a skill  which 
none  of  our  schoolmasters  practise,  he  made  me  think  he 
was  only  amusing  instead  of  giving  me  a task.  The  old 
man  tried  to  make  me  inquisitive , and  inclined  to  ask  about 
the  thing  which  he  wanted  to  explain  to  me  ; and  conse- 
quently at  eight  years  old  I could  read  prose  and  poetry, 
write  text,  draw  a house,  a horse,  and  a game-cock,  tin  a 
copper  saucepan,  and  turn  my  own  tops.  I could  do  the 
manual  exercise  with  my  grandfather’s  crutch  ; and  had 
learnt  besides  how  to  make  bullets,  pens,  and  black-ball  ; 
to  dance  a jig,  sing  a cronane,  and  play  the  Jews’  harp. 
Michael  also  shewed  me,  out  of  Scripture,  how  the  world 
stood  stock-still  whilst  the  sun  was  galloping  round  it  ; 
so  that  it  was  no  easy  matter  at  college  to  satisfy  me  as  to  the 
Copernican  system.  In  fact,  the  old  matross  gave  me  such 
a various  and  whimsical  assemblage  of  subjects  to  think 
about,  that  my  young  brain  imbibed  as  many  odd,  chival- 
rous, and  puzzling  theories  as  would  drive  some  children 
out  of  their  senses  ; and  truly  I found  it  no  easy  matter 
to  get  rid  of  several  of  them  when  it  became  absolutely 
necessary,  whilst  some  I shall  certainly  retain  till  my  death’s 
day. 

This  course  of  education  I most  sedulously  followed, 
until  it  pleased  God  to  suspend  my  learning  by  the  death  of 
my  grandfather,  on  whom  I doted.  He  had  taught  me  the 
broadsword  exercise  with  his  cane,  how  to  snap  a pistol, 
and  shoot  with  the  bow  and  arrow  ; and  had  bespoken  a 
little  quarterstaff  to  perfect  me  in  that  favourite  exercise  of 
his  youth,  by  which  he  had  been  enabled  to  knock  a gentle- 


38 


Barrington’s  recollections. 


man’s  brains  out  for  a wager,  on  the  ridge  of  Maryborough, 
in  company  with  the  grandfather  of  the  present  Judge 
Arthur  Moore,  of  the  Common  Pleas  of  Ireland.  It  is  a 
whimsical  gratification  to  me  to  think  that  I do  not  at  this 
moment  forget  much  of  the  said  instruction  which  I received 
either  from  Michael  Lodge,  the  matross,  or  from  Colonel 
Jonah  Barrington,  though  after  a lapse  of  nearly  sixty  years. 

A new  scene  was  now  to  be  opened  to  me.  I was  carried 
to  Dublin,  and  put  to  the  famous  schoolmaster  of  that  day, 
Dr.  Ball,  of  St.  Michael-a-Powell’s,  Ship  Street ; and  here 
my  puzzling  commenced  in  good  earnest.  I was  required 
to  learn  the  English  Grammar  in  the  Latin  tongue,  and  to 
translate  languages  without  understanding  any  of  them.  I 
was  taught  prosody  without  verse,  and  rhetoric  without 
composition  ; and  before  I had  ever  heard  any  oration 
except  a sermon,  I was  flogged  for  not  minding  my  emphasis 
in  recitation.  To  complete  my  satisfaction,  for  fear  I should 
be  idle  during  the  course  of  the  week,  castigation  was  regu- 
larly administered  every  Monday  morning,  to  give  me,  by 
anticipation,  a sample  of  what  the  repetition  day  might 
produce. 

However,  notwithstanding  all  this,  I worked  my  way,  got 
two  premiums,  and  at  length  was  reported  fit  to  be  placed 
under  the  hands  of  a private  tutor,  by  whom  I was  to  be 
finished  for  the  university. 

That  tutor  was  well  known  many  years  in  Digges  Street, 
Dublin,  and  cut  a still  more  extraordinary  figure  than  the 
matross.  He  was  the  Rev.  Patrick  Crawly,  Rector  of 
Kilgobbin,  whose  son,  my  schoolfellow,  was  hanged  a few 
years  ago  for  murdering  two  old  women  with  a shoemaker’s 
hammer.  My  tutor’s  person  was,  in  my  imagination,  of  the 
same  genus  as  that  of  Caliban.  His  feet  covered  a con- 
siderable space  of  any  room  wherein  he  stood,  and  his 
thumbs  were  so  large  that  he  could  scarcely  hold  a book 
without  hiding  more  than  half  the  page  of  it  ; though  bulky 


MY  EDUCATION. 


39 


himself,  his  clothes  doubled  the  dimensions  proper  to  suit 
his  body  ; and  an  immense  frowsy  wig,  powdered  once  a 
week,  covered  a head  which,  for  size  and  form,  might  vie 
with  a quarter-cask. 

Vaccination  not  having  as  yet  plundered  horned  cattle  of 
their  disorders,  its  predecessor  had  left  evident  proofs  of 
attachment  to  the  rector’s  countenance.  That  old  Christian 
malady,  the  small-pox,  which  had  resided  so  many  centuries 
amongst  our  ancestors,  and  which  modern  innovations  have 
endeavoured  to  undermine,  had  placed  his  features  in  a 
perfect  state  of  compactness  and  security — each  being 
screwed  quite  tight  to  its  neighbour,  and  every  seam 
appearing  deep  and  gristly,  so  that  the  whole  visage  appeared 
to  defy  alike  the  edge  of  the  sharpest  scalpel  and  the  skill 
of  the  most  expert  anatomist. 

Yet  this  was  as  good-hearted  a parson  as  ever  lived — 
affectionate,  friendly,  and,  so  far  as  Greek,  Latin,  Prosody, 
and  Euclid  went,  excelled  by  few  ; and  under  him  I acquired 
in  one  year  more  classical  knowledge  than  I had  done 
during  the  former  six,  whence  I was  enabled,  out  of  thirty- 
six  pupils,  early  to  obtain  a place  in  the  University  of  Dublin. 

The  college  course  at  that  time,  though  a very  learned 
one,  was  ill-arranged,  pedantic,  and  totally  out  of  sequence. 
Students  were  examined  in  Locke  on  the  Human  Under - 
standing  before  their  own  had  arrived  at  the  first  stage  of 
maturity  ; and  Euclid  was  pressed  upon  their  reason  before 
any  one  of  them  could  comprehend  a single  problem.  We 
were  set  to  work  at  the  most  abstruse  sciences  before  we  had 
well  digested  the  simpler  ones,  and  posed  ourselves  at 
optics,  natural  philosophy,  ethics,  astronomy,  mathematics, 
metaphysics,  etc.,  etc.,  without  the  least  relief  from  belles- 
lettres,  modern  history,  geography,  or  poetry  ; in  short, 
without  regard  to  any  of  these  acquirements — the  classics 
excepted,  which  form  essential  parts  of  a gentleman’s 
education. 


4o 


Barrington’s  recollections. 


Mr.  Hutchinson,  a later  provost,  father  of  Lord 
Donoughmore,  went  into  the  opposite  extreme  ; a 
most  excellent  classic  scholar  himself,  he  wished  to  introduce 
every  elegant  branch  of  erudition — to  cultivate  the  modern 
languages — in  short,  to  adapt  the  course  to  the  education 
of  men  of  rank  as  well  as  men  of  science.  The  plan  was 
most  laudable,  but  was  voted  not  monastic  enough — indeed, 
a polished  gentleman  would  have  operated  like  a ghost 
amongst  those  pedantic  fellows. 

Mr.  Hutchinson  went  too  far  in  proposing  a riding-house. 
The  scheme  drew  forth  from  Dr.  Duigenan  a pamphlet, 
called  Pranceriana , which  turned  the  project  and  projector 
into  the  most  consummate,  but  very  coarse  and  ill-natured 
ridicule. 

Doctor  Barrett,  late  vice-provost,  dining  at  the  table  of 
the  new  provost,  who  lived  in  a style  of  elegance  attempted 
by  none  of  his  predecessors,  helped  himself  to  what  he 
thought  a peach,  but  which  happened  to  be  a shape  made  of 
ice.  On  taking  it  into  his  mouth,  never  having  tasted  ice 
before,  he  supposed,  from  the  pang  given  to  his  teeth, 
and  the  shock  which  his  tongue  and  mouth  instantly  received, 
that  the  sensation  was  produced  by  heat.  Starting  up, 
therefore,  he  cried  out,  and  it  was  the  first  oath  he  had  ever 
uttered,  “I’m  scalded , by  G — d ! ” — ran  home  and  sent 
for  the  next  apothecary  ! 

Nevertheless,  I jogged  on  with  bene  for  the  classics,  satis 
for  the  sciences,  and  medio  enter  for  mathematics.  I had, 
however,  the  mortification  of  seeing  the  stupidest  fellows 
I ever  met  at  school  or  college  beat  me  out  of  the  field  in 
some  of  the  examinations,  and  very  justly  obtain  premiums 
for  sciences  which  I could  not  bring  within  the  scope  of 
my  comprehension. 

My  consolation  is,  that  many  men  of  superior  talent  to 
myself  came  off  no  better  ; and  I had  the  satisfaction  of 
knowing  that  some  of  the  most  erudite,  studious,  and 


MY  EDUCATION. 


41 


distinguished  of  my  contemporary  collegians  went  raving, 
and  others  melancholy  mad  ; and  I do  believe  that  there 
are  at  this  moment  five  or  six  of  the  most  eminent  of  my 
academic  rivals  roaring  in  asylums  for  lunatics. 

When  I seek  amusement  by  tracing  the  fate  of  such  of  my 
school  and  college  friends  as  I can  get  information  about,  I 
find  that  many  of  the  most  promising  and  conspicuous  have 
met  untimely  ends,  and  that  most  of  those  men  whose  great 
talents  distinguished  them  first  in  the  university  and  after- 
wards at  the  bar  had  entered  as  sizars  for  provision  as  well 
as  for  learning  : indigence  and  genius  were  thus  jointly 
concerned  in  their  merited  elevation  ; and  I am  convinced 
that  the  finest  abilities  are  frequently  buried  alive  in  affluence 
and  in  luxury. 

The  death  of  my  grandmother,  which  now  took  place, 
made  a very  considerable  change  in  my  situation,  and  I had 
sense  enough,  though  still  very  young,  to  see  the  necessity 
of  turning  my  mind  towards  a preparation  for  some  lucrative 
profession — either  law,  physic,  divinity,  or  war. 

I debated  on  all  these,  as  I thought,  with  great  impar- 
tiality : the  pedantry  of  college  disgusted  me  with  clericals, 
wooden  legs  put  me  out  of  conceit  with  warfare,  the  horror 
of  death  made  me  shudder  at  medicine,  and  whilst  the  law 
was  but  a lottery-trade,  too  precarious  for  my  taste,  manu- 
facture was  too  humiliating  for  my  pride.  Nothing,  on  the 
other  hand,  could  induce  me  to  remain  a walking  gentleman, 
and  so  every  occupation  that  I could  think  of  having  its 
peculiar  disqualification,  I remained  a considerable  time  in  a 
state  of  great  uncertainty  and  disquietude. 

Meanwhile,  although  my  choice  had  nothing  to  do  with 
the  matter,  I got  almost  imperceptibly  engaged  in  that 
species  of  profession  exercised  by  a young  sportsman,  where- 
by I was  initiated  into  a number  of  accomplishments  ten 
times  worse  than  the  negative  ones  of  the  walking 
gentleman  : namely,  riding,  drinking,  dancing,  carousing. 


42 


Barrington's  recollections. 


hunting,  shooting,  fishing,  fighting,  racing,  cock-fight- 
ing, etc. 

After  my  grandmother’s  death,  as  my  father’s  country- 
house  was  my  home,  so  my  two  elder  brothers  became  my 
tutors,  the  rustics  my  precedents,  and  a newspaper  my 
literature.  However,  the  foundation  for  my  propensities  had 
been  too  well  laid  to  be  easily  rooted  up  ; and  whilst  I 
certainly  for  a while  indulged  in  the  habits  of  those  around 
me,  I was  not  at  all  idle  as  to  the  pursuits  I had  been  pre- 
viously accustomed  to.  I had  a pretty  good  assortment 
of  books  of  my  own,  and  seldom  passed  a day  without 
devoting  some  part  of  it  to  reading  or  letter- writing  ; and 
though  I certainly  somewhat  mis-spent,  I cannot  accuse 
myself  of  having  lost,  the  period  I passed  at  Bladsford — 
since  I obtained  therein  a full  insight  into  the  manners, 
habits,  and  dispositions  of  the  different  classes  of  the  Irish, 
in  situations  and  under  circumstances  which  permitted 
nature  to  exhibit  her  traits  without  restraint  or  caution  : 
building  on  which  foundation,  my  greatest  pleasure  has  ever 
been  that  of  adding  to  and  embellishing  the  superstructure 
which  my  experience  and  observation  have  since  conspired 
to  raise. 

It  is  quite  impossible  I can  give  a better  idea  of  the 
dissipation  of  that  period,  into  which  I was  thus  plunged, 
than  by  describing  an  incident  I shall  never  forget,  and 
which  occurred  very  soon  after  my  first  entree  into  the 
sporting  sphere. 


IRISH  DISSIPATION  IN  1 778. 


43 


CHAPTER  V. 

IRISH  DISSIPATION  IN  1 778. 

Close  to  the  kennel  of  his  hounds  my  father  had  built  a 
small  cottage,  which  was  occupied  solely  by  an  old  huntsman, 
his  older  wife,  and  his  nephew,  a whipper-in.  The  chase, 
and  the  bottle,  and  the  piper  were  the  enjoyments  of  winter, 
and  nothing  could  recompense  a suspension  of  these  enjoy- 
ments. 

My  elder  brother,  justly  apprehending  that  the  frost  and 
snow  of  Christmas  might  probably  prevent  their  usual 
occupation  of  the  chase,  determined  to  provide  against  any 
listlessness  during  the  shut-up  period  by  an  uninterrupted 
match  of  what  was  called  “ hard-going’’  till  the  weather 
should  break  up. 

A hogshead  of  superior  claret  was,  therefore,  sent  to  the 
cottage  of  old  Quin,  the  huntsman  ; and  a fat  cow,  killed  and 
plundered  of  her  skin,  was  hung  up  by  the  heels.  All  the 
windows  were  closed  to  keep  out  the  light.  One  room, 
filled  with  straw  and  numerous  blankets,  was  destined  for  a 
bed-chamber  in  common,  and  another  was  prepared  as  a 
kitchen  for  the  use  of  the  servants.  Claret,  cold,  mulled,  or 
buttered,  was  to  be  the  beverage  for  the  whole  company,  and 
in  addition  to  the  cow  above  mentioned,  chickens,  bacon 
and  bread  were  the  only  admitted  viands.  Wallace  and 
Hosey,  my  father’s  and  brother’s  pipers,  and  Doyle,  a blind 
but  a famous  fiddler,  were  employed  to  enliven  the  banquet, 
which  it  was  determined  should  continue  till  the  cow  became 
a skeleton,  and  the  claret  should  be  on  its  stoop. 

My  two  elder  brothers  ; two  gentlemen  of  the  name  of 
Taylor,  one  of  them  afterwards  a writer  in  India  ; a Mr. 
Barrington  Lodge,  a rough  songster  ; Frank  Skelton,  a jester 


44 


Barrington’s  recollections. 


and  a butt  ; Jemmy  Moffat,  the  most  knowing  sportsman  of 
the  neighbourhood  ; and  two  other  sporting  gentlemen 
of  the  county,  composed  the  permanent  bacchanalians. 
A few  visitors  were  occasionally  admitted. 

As  for  myself,  I was  too  unseasoned  to  go  through  more 
than  the  first  ordeal,  which  was  on  a frosty  St.  Stephen’s 
Day,  when  the  “ hard-goers  ” partook  of  their  opening 
banquet,  and  several  neighbours  were  invited,  to  honour 
the  commencement  of  what  they  called  their  “ shut-up 
pilgrimage .” 

The  old  huntsman  was  the  only  male  attendant,  and  his 
ancient  spouse,  once  a kitchen-maid  in  the  family,  now 
somewhat  resembling  the  amiable  Leonarda  in  Gil  Bias , 
was  the  cook,  whilst  the  drudgery  fell  to  the  lot  of  the  whipper- 
in.  A long  knife  was  prepared  to  cut  collops  from  the 
cow  ; a large  turf  fire  seemed  to  court  the  gridiron  ; the 
pot  bubbled  up  as  if  proud  of  its  contents,  whilst  plump 
white  chickens  floated  in  crowds  upon  the  surface  of  the 
water  ; the  simmering  potatoes,  just  bursting  their  drab 
surtouts,  exposed  the  delicate  whiteness  of  their  mealy 
bosoms  ; the  claret  was  tapped,  and  the  long  earthen  wide- 
mouthed pitchers  stood  gaping  under  the  impatient  cock, 
to  receive  their  portions.  The  pipers  plied  their  chants, 
the  fiddler  tuned  his  Cremona,  and  never  did  any  feast 
commence  with  more  auspicious  appearances  of  hilarity 
and  dissipation,  appearances  which  were  not  doomed  to  be 
falsified. 

I shall  never  forget  the  attraction  this  novelty  had  for  my 
youthful  mind.  All  thoughts  but  those  of  good  cheer  were 
for  the  time  totally  obliterated.  A few  curses  were,  it  is 
true,  requisite  to  spur  on  old  Leonarda’s  skill,  but  at  length 
the  banquet  entered  : the  luscious  smoked  bacon,  bedded  on 
its  cabbage  mattress,  and  partly  obscured  by  its  own  savoury 
steam,  might  have  tempted  the  most  fastidious  of  epicures  ; 
whilst  the  round  trussed  chickens,  ranked  by  the  half  do^en 


IRISH  DISSIPATION  IN  1778. 


45 


on  hot  pewter  dishes,  turned  up  their  white  plump  merry- 
thoughts, exciting  equally  the  eye  and  appetite  ; fat  collops 
of  the  hanging  cow,  sliced  indiscriminately  from  her  tenderest 
points,  grilled  over  the  clear  embers  upon  a shining  gridiron, 
half  drowned  in  their  own  luscious  juices,  and  garnished  with 
little  pyramids  of  congenial  shalots,  smoked  at  the  bottom 
of  the  well-furnished  board.  A prologue  of  cherry-bounce 
(brandy)  preceded  the  entertainment,  which  was  enlivened 
by  hob-nobs  and  joyous  toasts. 

Numerous  toasts,  in  fact,  as  was  customary  in  those  days, 
intervened  to  prolong  and  give  zest  to  the  repast — every 
man  shouted  forth  his  fair  favourite,  or  convivial  pledge  ; 
and  each  voluntarily  surrendered  a portion  of  his  own 
reason  in  bumpers  to  the  beauty  of  his  neighbour’s  toast. 
The  pipers  jerked  from  their  bags  appropriate  planxties  to 
every  jolly  sentiment  ; the  jokers  cracked  the  usual  jests 
and  ribaldry  : one  songster  chanted  the  joys  of  wine  and 
women  ; another  gave,  in  full  glee,  the  pleasures  of  the  fox 
chase  ; the  fiddler  sawed  his  merriest  jigs  ; the  old  hunts- 
man sounded  his  horn,  and  thrusting  his  forefinger  into  his 
ear,  to  aid  the  quaver,  gave  the  view  halloa  ! of  nearly  ten 
minutes’  duration,  to  which  melody  tally  ho  ! was  responded 
by  every  stentorian  voice.  A fox’s  brush  stuck  into  a 
candlestick,  in  the  centre  of  the  table,  was  worshipped  as 
a divinity  ! Claret  flowed,  bumpers  were  multiplied, 
and  chickens,  in  the  garb  of  spicy  spitchcocks,  assumed 
the  name  of  devils  to  whet  the  appetites  which  it  was  im- 
possible to  conquer  ! 

My  reason  gradually  began  to  lighten  me  of  its  burden, 
and  in  its  last  efforts  kindly  suggested  the  straw-chamber  as 
my  asylum.  Two  couple  of  favourite  hounds  had  been 
introduced  to  share  in  the  joyous  pastime  of  their  friends 
and  master  ; and  the  deep  bass  of  their  throats,  excited  by 
the  shrillness  of  the  huntsman’s  tenor,  harmonised  by  two 
rattling  pipers,  a jigging  fiddler,  and  twelve  voices,  in  twelve 


46 


Barrington’s  recollections. 


different  keys,  all  bellowing  in  one  continuous  unrelenting 
chime,  was  the  last  point  of  recognition  which  Bacchus  per- 
mitted me  to  exercise,  for  my  eyes  began  to  perceive  a much 
larger  company  than  the  room  actually  contained  ; the 
lights  were  more  than  doubled,  without  any  virtual  increase 
of  their  number,  and  even  the  chairs  and  tables  commenced 
dancing  a series  of  minuets  before  me.  A faint  tally  ho  ! 
was  attempted  by  my  reluctant  lips  ; but  I believe  the  effort 
was  unsuccessful,  and  I very  soon  lost,  in  the  straw-room, 
all  that  brilliant  consciousness  of  existence  in  the  possession 
of  which  the  morning  had  found  me  so  happy. 

Just  as  I was  closing  my  eyes  to  a twelve  hours’  slumber, 
I distinguished  the  general  roar  of  “ stole  azoay  ! ” which 
rose  almost  up  to  the  very  roof  of  old  Quin’s  cottage. 

At  noon,  next  day,  a scene  of  a different  nature  was. 
exhibited.  I found,  on  waking,  two  associates  by  my  side, 
in  as  perfect  insensibility  as  that  from  which  I had  just 
aroused.  Our  piper  seemed  indubitably  dead  ! but  the 
fiddler,  who  had  the  privilege  of  age  and  blindness,  had 
taken  a hearty  nap,  and  seemed  as  much  alive  as  ever. 

The  room  of  banquet  had  been  re-arranged  by  the  old 
woman  ; spitchcocked  chickens,  fried  rashers,  and  broiled 
marrow-bones  appeared  struggling  for  precedence.  The 
clean  cloth  looked  itself  fresh  and  exciting  ; jugs  of  mulled 
and  buttered  claret  foamed  hot  upon  the  refurnished  table, 
and  a better  or  heartier  breakfast  I never  in  my  life  enjoyed. 

A few  members  of  the  jovial  crew  had  remained  all  night 
at  their  posts,  but,  I suppose,  alternately  took  some  rest, 
as  they  seemed  not  at  all  affected  by  their  repletion.  Soap 
and  hot  water  restored  at  once  their  spirits  and  their  persons  ; 
and  it  was  determined  that  the  rooms  should  be  ventilated 
and  cleared  out  for  a cock-fight,  to  pass  time  till  the  approach 
of  dinner. 

In  this  battle-royal  every  man  backed  his  own  bird, 
twelve  of  which  courageous  an'mals  were  set  down  together 


IRISH  DISSIPATION  IN  1 778. 


47 


to  fight  it  out,  the  survivor  to  gain  all.  In  point  of  principle, 
the  battle  of  the  Horatii  and  Curiatii  was  reacted,  and  in 
about  an  hour  one  cock  crowed  out  his  triumph  over  the 
mangled  body  of  his  last  opponent,  being  himself,  strange 
to  say,  but  little  wounded.  The  other  eleven  lay  dead, 
and  to  the  victor  was  unanimously  voted  a writ  of  ease,  with 
sole  monarchy  over  the  hen-roost  for  the  remainder  of  his 
days  ; and  I remember  him  for  many  years  the  proud 
commandant  of  his  poultry-yard  and  seraglio.  Fresh 
visitors  were  introduced  each  successive  day,  and  the  seventh 
morning  had  arisen  before  the  feast  broke  up.  As  that 
day  advanced,  the  cow  was  proclaimed  to  have  furnished 
her  full  quantum  of  good  dishes  ; the  claret  was  upon  its 
stoop,  and  the  last  gallon,  mulled  with  a pound  of  spices, 
was  drunk  in  tumblers  to  the  next  merry  meeting  ! All 
now  retired  to  their  natural  rest,  until  the  evening  announced 
a different  scene. 

An  early  supper,  to  be  partaken  of  by  all  the  young  folks 
of  both  sexes  in  the  neighbourhood,  was  provided  in  the 
dwelling-house,  to  terminate  the  festivities.  A dance,  as 
usual,  wound  up  the  entertainment,  and  what  was  then 
termed  a “ raking  pot  of  tea  ” put  a finishing  stroke,  in 
jollity  and  good  humour,  to  such  a revel  as  I never  saw 
before,  and,  I am  sure,  shall  never  see  again. 

When  I compare  with  the  foregoing  the  habits  of  the 
present  day,  and  see  the  grandsons  of  those  joyous  and 
vigorous  sportsmen  mincing  their  fish  and  tit-bits  at  their 
favourite  box  in  Bond  Street  ; amalgamating  their  ounce  of 
salad  on  a silver  saucer,  employing  six  sauces  to  coax  one 
appetite,  burning  up  the  palate  to  make  its  enjoyments  the 
more  exquisite,  sipping  their  acid  claret,  disguised  by  an 
olive  or  neutralised  by  a chestnut,  lisping  out  for  the  scented 
waiter,  and  paying  him  the  price  of  a feast  for  the  modicum 
of  a Lilliputian,  and  the  pay  of  a captain  for  the  attendance 
of  a blackguard — it  amuses  me  extremely,  and  makes  me 


48 


Barrington’s  recollections. 


speculate  on  what  their  forefathers  would  have  done  to  those 
admirable  Epicenes  if  they  had  had  them  at  the  “ Pilgrim- 
age ” in  the  huntsman’s  cot. 

To  these  extremes  of  former  roughness  and  modern 
affectation,  it  would  require  the  pen  of  such  a writer  as 
Fielding  to  do  ample  justice.  It  may,  however,  afford  our 
reader  some  diversion  to  trace  the  degrees  which  led  from 
the  grossness  of  the  former  down  to  the  effeminacy  of  the 
latter  ; and  these  may,  in  a great  measure,  be  collected 
from  the  various  incidents  which  will  be  found  scattered 
throughout  these  sketches  of  sixty  solar  revolutions. 

Nothing,  indeed,  can  better  illustrate  the  sensation  which 
the  grandfathers,  or  even  aged  fathers,  of  these  slim  lads  of 
the  Bond  Street  establishments  must  have  felt  upon  finding 
their  offspring  in  the  occupation  I have  just  mentioned 
than  a story  relating  to  Captain  Parsons  Hoye,  of  County 
Wicklow,  who  several  years  since  met  with  an  instance  of 
the  kind  at  Hudson’s  in  Covent  Garden. 

A nephew  of  his,  an  effeminate  young  fellow,  who  had 
returned  from  travelling,  and  who  expected  to  be  his  heir, 
accidently  came  into  the  coffee-room.  Neither  uncle  nor 
nephew  knew  each  other  ; but  old  Parsons’  disgust  at  the 
dandified  manners,  language,  and  dress  of  the  youth  gave 
rise  to  an  occurrence  which  drew  from  the  bluff  seaman 
epithets  rather  too  coarse  to  record  ; the  end  of  it  was  that 
when  Parsons  discovered  the  relationship  of  the  stranger 
he  struck  him  out  of  a will  which  he  had  made,  and  died 
very  soon  after,  as  if  on  purpose  to  mortify  the  macaroni. 

We  will  take  this  opportunity  of  subjoining  an  accurate 
description  of  the  person  of  Captain  Parsons  Hoye,  thereby 
enabling  our  reader  to  estimate  the  singularity  of  his  collision 
with  the  dandy. 

Commodore  Trunnion  was  a civilised  man,  and  a beauty, 
but  a fool,  compared  to  Parsons  Hoye.  He  had  a moderate 
hereditary  property  near  Wicklow  ; had  been  a captain  in 


IRISH  DISSIPATION  IN  1 778. 


49 


the  royal  navy  ; was  a bad  farmer,  a worse  sportsman,  and 
a blustering  justice  of  peace  ; but  great  at  potation  ! and 
what  was  called,  “ in  the  main,  a capital  fellow.”  He  was 
nearly  as  boisterous  as  his  adopted  element  : his  voice  was 
always  as  if  on  the  quarter-deck  ; and  the  whistle  of  an  old 
boatswain,  who  had  been  decapitated  by  his  side,  hung  as  a 
memento,  by  a thong  of  leather,  to  his  waistcoat  button-hole. 
It  was  frequently  had  recourse  to,  and,  whenever  he  wanted 
a word,  supplied  the  deficiency. 

In  form  the  captain  was  squat,  broad,  and  coarse  ; a large 
purple  nose,  with  a broad  crimson  chin  to  match,  were  the 
only  features  of  any  consequence  in  his  countenance,  except 
a couple  of  good  enough  bloodshot  eyes,  screened  by  most 
exuberant  grizzle  eye-lashes.  His  powdered  wig  had 
behind  it  a queue  in  the  form  of  a handspike,  and  a couple 
of  rolled-up  paste  curls,  like  a pair  of  carronades,  adorned  its 
broadsides  ; a blue  coat,  with  slash  cuffs  and  plenty  of  navy 
buttons,  surmounted  a scarlet  waistcoat — the  skirts  of 
which,  he  said,  he  would  have  of  their  enormous  length 
because  it  assured  him  that  the  tailor  had  put  all  the  cloth  in 
it  ; a black  Barcelona  adorned  his  neck  ; an  old  round  hat 
bordered  with  gold  lace,  pitched  on  one  side  of  his  head, 
and  turned  up  also  on  one  side,  with  a huge  cockade  stuck 
into  a buttonless  loop,  gave  him  a swaggering  air.  He  bore 
a shillelagh,  the  growth  of  his  own  estate,  in  a fist  which 
would  cover  more  ground  than  the  best  shoulder  of  wether 
mutton  in  a London  market.  I once  saw  the  inconvenience 
of  that  species  of  fist  strongly  exemplified.  The  late 
Admiral  Cosby,  of  Stradbally  Hall,  had  as  large  and  as  brown 
a fist  as  any  admiral  in  his  majesty’s  service.  Happening 
one  day,  unfortunately,  to  lay  it  on  the  table  during  dinner 
at  Colonel  Fitzgerald’s,  Merrion  Square,  a Mr.  Jenkins, 
a half-blind  doctor,  who  chanced  to  sit  next  to  the  admiral, 
cast  his  eye  upon  the  fist  ; the  imperfection  of  his  vision 
led  him  to  believe  it  was  a French  roll  of  bread,  and,  without 

(D  311) 


E 


5° 


Barrington’s  recollections. 


further  ceremony,  the  doctor  thrust  his  fork  plump  into 
the  admiral’s  fist.  The  confusion  which  resulted  may  be 
easily  imagined. 

Yet  the  captain  had  a look  of  generosity,  good  nature, 
benevolence,  and  hospitality,  which  his  features  did  their 
very  best  to  conceal,  and  which  none  but  a good  physiogno- 
mist could  possibly  discover. 


MY  brother’s  hunting-lodge. 


51 


CHAPTER  VI. 

my  brother’s  hunting-lodge. 

I met  with  a ludicrous  instance  of  the  dissipation  of  even 

later  days,  a few  months  after  my  marriage.  Lady  B 

and  myself  took  a tour  through  some  of  the  southern  parts 
of  Ireland,  and  among  other  places  visited  Castle  Durrow, 
near  which  place  my  brother,  Henry  French  Barrington, 
had  built  a hunting  cottage,  wherein  he  happened  to  have 
given  a house-warming  the  previous  day. 

The  company,  as  might  be  expected  at  such  a place  and 
on  such  an  occasion,  was  not  the  most  select — in  fact,  they 
were  “ hard-going  ” sportsmen. 

Amongst  the  rest,  Mr.  Joseph  Kelly,  of  unfortunate  fate, 
brother  to  Mr.  Michael  Kelly,  who  by  the  bye  does  not  say 
a word  about  him  in  his  Reminiscences , had  been  invited, 
to  add  to  the  merriment  by  his  pleasantry  and  voice,  and 
had  come  down  from  Dublin  for  the  purpose. 

It  may  not  be  amiss  to  say  something  here  of  that  remark- 
able person.  I knew  him  from  his  early  youth.  His  father 
was  a dancing  master  in  Mary  Street,  Dublin  ; and  I found 
in  the  newspapers  of  that  period  a number  of  puffs  in  French 
and  English  of  Mr.  O ’Kelly’s  abilities  in  that  way — one  of 
which,  a certificate  from  a French  artiste , of  Paris,  is  curious 
enough  : — 

Mr.  O'Kelly  is  just  returned  from  Paris.  Ladies  and  gentlemen 
who  are  pleased  to  send  their  commands  to  No.  30  Mary  Street  will 
be  most  respectfully  attended  to. 


Je  certifie  que  M Guillaume  O'Kelly  est  venu  a Paris  pour  prendre 
de  moi  lecons,  et  qu'il  est  sorti  de  mes  mains  en  etat  de  pouvoir  enseigner 
la  dance  avec  succes. 

Garden,  Maitre  a Danser  de  la  Reine, 
\ et  Maitre  des  Ballets  du  Roy. 

A Paris,  le  2o£me  Aoht,  1781. 


52 


Barrington’s  recollections. 


What  could  put  it  into  his  son’s  head  that  he  had  been 
Master  of  the  Ceremonies  at  Dublin  Castle  is  rather  perplexing ! 
He  became  a wine  merchant  latterly,  dropped  the  O’  which 
had  been  placed  at  the  beginning  of  his  name,  and  was  a 
well-conducted  and  respectable  man.  But  as  he  was  a 
Roman  Catholic , and  as  no  Roman  Catholic  could  then 
hold  any  office  in  the  vice-regal  establishment  of  Dublin 
Castle,  Mr.  M.  Kelly  must  have  been  misinformed  on  that 
point  as  to  his  father,  whom  I have  often  seen.  Mr.  Gofton, 
a dancing  master  of  Anne  Street,  Linen  Hall,  and  uncle 
to  Doctor  Barrett,  the  late  extraordinary  vice-provost  of 
Trinity  College,  was  a friend  of  Mr.  O’Kelly’s,  and  taught 
me  to  the  day  of  his  death,  which  was  sudden. 

Joe  was  a slender  young  man,  remarkably  handsome  ; 
but  with  regard  to  character,  always  what  in  that  part  of  the 
country  they  emphatically  styled  “ the  devil ! ” I recollect 
his  dancing  a hornpipe  in  a sailor’s  costume  most  admirably 
upon  the  stage.  He  also  sang  the  songs  of  Young  Meadows , 
in  “ Love  in  a Village,”  extremely  well,  as  likewise  those  of 
Macheath  and  other  parts  ; but  he  could  never  give  the  acting 
any  effect.  He  was,  strictly  speaking,  a bravura  singer — 
there  was  no  pathos — nothing  touchant  in  his  cadences  ; but 
in  drinking-songs,  etc.,  he  was  unrivalled.  As  his  brother 
has  not  thought  proper  to  speak  about  him,  it  might  be  con- 
sidered out  of  place  for  me  to  go  into  his  history,  all  of  which 
I know,  and  many  passages  of  which  might  probably  be 
both  entertaining  and  instructive.  Some  parts  of  it,  how- 
ever, are  already  on  record,  and  others  I hope  will  never  be 
recorded.  The  Duke  of  Wellington  knew  Joe  Kelly 
extremely  well  ; and  if  he  had  merited  advancement,  I dare- 
say he  would  have  received  it.  The  last  conversation  I had 
with  him  was  on  the  Boulevard  Italien  in  Paris.  I was 
walking  with  my  son,  then  belonging  to  the  5th  Dragoon 
Guards.  Kelly  came  up  and  spoke  to  us.  I shook  him  by 
the  hand,  and  he  talked  away — spoke  to  my  son — no  answer  ; 


my  brother’s  hunting-lodge. 


53 


he  tried  him  again — no  reply.  Kelly  seemed  surprised,  and 
said,  “ Don’t  you  know  me,  Barrington  ? why  don’t  you 
speak  to  me  ? ” “ ’Tis  because  I do  know  you  that  I 

do  not  speak  to  you,”  replied  my  son.  Kelly  blushed,  but 
turned  it  off  with  a laugh.  I could  not  then  guess  the  reason 
for  this  cut  direct,  and  my  son  refused  to  tell  me.  I have 
since , however,  become  acquainted  with  it,  and  think  the 
sarcasm  well  merited.  It  was,  indeed,  the  bitterer,  from  its 
being  the  only  one  I ever  heard  my  son  utter.  Joe  Kelly 
killed  his  man  in  a duel,  for  which  he  was  tried  and  narrowly 
escaped.  According  to  his  own  account  indeed,  he  killed 
plenty  more  men  at  the  Battle  of  Waterloo  and  in  other 
actions.  He  was  himself  shot  at  Paris  by  a commissary  with 
whom  he  had  quarrelled,  and  the  humorists  remarked 
thereupon  that  Joe  had  died  a natural  death. 

Of  this  convivial  assemblage  at  my  brother’s,  he  was,  I 
suppose,  the  very  life  and  soul.  The  dining-room  had  not 
been  finished  when  the  day  of  the  dinner-party  arrived,  and 
the  lower  parts  of  the  walls,  having  only  that  morning 
received  their  last  coat  of  plaster,  were,  of  course,  totally  wet. 

We  had  intended  to  surprise  my  brother,  but  had  not 
calculated  on  the  scene  I was  to  witness.  On  driving  to  the 
cottage  door  I found  it  open,  whilst  a dozen  dogs  of  different 
descriptions  shewed  ready  to  receive  us  not  in  the  most 
polite  manner.  My  servant’s  whip,  however,  soon  sent 
them  about  their  business,  and  I ventured  into  the  parlour 
to  see  what  cheer.  It  was  about  ten  in  the  morning  ; the 
room  was  strewed  with  empty  bottles,  some  broken,  some 
interspersed  with  glasses,  plates,  dishes,  knives,  spoons,  etc., 
all  in  glorious  confusion.  Here  and  there  were  heaps  of 
bones,  relics  of  the  former  day’s  entertainment,  which  the 
dogs,  seizing  their  opportunity,  had  cleanly  picked.  Three 
or  four  of  the  Bacchanalians  lay  fast  asleep  upon  chairs,  one 
or  two  others  on  the  floor,  among  whom  a piper  lay  on  his 
back,  apparently  dead,  with  a table-cloth  spread  over  him, 


54 


Barrington's  recollections. 


and  surrounded  by  four  or  five  candles  burnt  to  the  sockets  ; 
his  chanter  and  bags  were  laid  scientifically  across  his  body, 
his  mouth  was  wide  open,  and  his  nose  made  ample  amends 
for  the  silence  of  his  drone.  Joe  Kelly  and  a Mr.  Peter 
Alley  were  fast  asleep  in  their  chairs,  close  to  the  wall. 

Had  I never  viewed  such  a scene  before  it  would  have 
almost  terrified  me  ; but  it  was  nothing  more  than  the 
ordinary  custom  which  we  called  waking  the  piper , when  he 
had  got  too  drunk  to  make  any  more  music. 

I went  out  and  sent  away  my  carriage  and  its  inmate  to 
Castle  Durrow,  whence  we  had  come,  and  afterwards 
proceeded  to  seek  my  brother.  No  servant  was  to  be  seen, 
man  or  woman.  I went  to  the  stables,  wherein  I found 
three  or  four  more  of  the  goodly  company,  who  had  just 
been  able  to  reach  their  horses,  but  were  seized  by 
Morpheus  before  they  could  mount  them,  and  so  lay  in  the 
mangers  awaiting  a more  favourable  opportunity.  Return- 
ing hence  to  the  cottage,  I found  my  brother,  also  asleep 
on  the  only  bed  which  it  then  afforded  ; he  had  no  occasion 
to  put  on  his  clothes,  since  he  had  never  taken  them  off. 

I next  waked  Dan  Tyron,  a wood-ranger  of  Lord 
Ashbrook,  who  had  acted  as  maitre  d ’hotel  in  making  the 
arrangements,  and  providing  a horse  load  of  game  to  fill  up 
the  banquet.  I then  inspected  the  parlour,  and  insisted  on 
breakfast.  Dan  Tyron  set  to  work  ; an  old  woman  was 
called  in  from  an  adjoining  cabin,  the  windows  were  opened, 
the  room  cleared,  the  floor  swept,  the  relics  removed,  and 
the  fire  lighted  in  the  kitchen.  The  piper  was  taken  away 
senseless,  but  my  brother  would  not  suffer  either  Joe  or 
Alley  to  be  disturbed  till  breakfast  was  ready.  No  time  was 
lost  ; and  after  a very  brief  interval  we  had  before  us 
abundance  of  fine  eggs,  and  milk  fresh  from  the  cow,  with 
brandy,  sugar,  and  nutmeg  in  plenty,  a large  loaf,  fresh 
butter,  a cold  round  of  beef,  which  had  not  been  produced 
on  the  previous  day,  red  herrings,  and  a bowl  dish  of  pota- 


my  brother’s  hunting-lodge. 


55 


toes  roasted  on  the  turf  ashes,  in  addition  to  which,  ale, 
whisky,  and  port  made  up  the  refreshments.  All  being 
duly  in  order,  we  at  length  awakened  Joe  Kelly  and  Peter 
Alley,  his  neighbour  ; they  had  slept  soundly,  though  with 
no  other  pillow  than  the  wall,  and  my  brother  announced 
breakfast  with  a view  holloa  /* 

The  twain  immediately  started  and  roared  in  unison  with 
their  host  most  tremendously  ! it  was,  however,  in  a very 
different  tone  from  the  view  holloa , and  perpetuated  much 
longer. 

“ Come,  boys,”  says  French,  giving  Joe  a pull — “ come  ! ” 

“ Oh,  murder  ! ” says  Joe,  “ I can’t  ! ” — “ Murder  ! 
murder  ! ” echoed  Peter.  French  pulled  them  again,  upon 
which  they  roared  the  more,  still  retaining  their  places. 
I have  in  my  lifetime  laughed  till  I nearly  became  spasmodic, 
but  never  were  my  risible  muscles  put  to  greater  tension 
than  upon  this  occasion.  The  wall,  as  I said  before,  had 
only  that  day  received  a coat  of  mortar,  and,  of  course, 
was  quite  soft  and  yielding  when  Joe  and  Peter  thought 
proper  to  make  it  their  pillow  ; it  was,  nevertheless,  setting 
fast  from  the  heat  and  lights  of  an  eighteen  hours’  carousal, 
and  in  the  morning  when  my  brother  awakened  his  guests, 
the  mortar  had  completely  set,  and  their  hair  being  the  thing 
most  calculated  to  amalgamate  therewith,  the  entire  of  Joe’s 
stock,  together  with  his  queue  and  half  his  head,  was 
thoroughly  and  irrecoverably  bedded  in  the  greedy  and  now 
marble  cement  ; so  that  if  determined  to  move,  he  must 
have  taken  the  wall  along  with  him,  for  separate  it  would  not. 
One  side  of  Peter’s  head  was  in  the  same  state  of  imprison- 
ment. Nobody  was  able  to  assist  them,  and  there  they 
both  stuck  fast. 

A consultation  was  now  held  on  this  pitiful  case,  which  I 
maliciously  endeavoured  to  prolong  as  much  as  I could, 
and  which  was,  in  fact,  every  now  and  then  interrupted  by  a 
* The  shout  of  hunters  when  the  game  is  in  view. 


56 


Barrington’s  recollections. 


roar  from  Peter  or  Joe,  as  they  made  fresh  efforts  to  rise. 
At  length,  it  was  proposed  by  Dan  Tyron  to  send  for  the 
stone-cutter,  and  get  him  to  cut  them  out  of  the  wall  with  a 
chisel.  I was  literally  unable  to  speak  two  sentences  for 
laughing.  The  old  woman  meanwhile  tried  to  soften  the 
obdurate  wall  with  melted  butter  and  new  milk,  but  in  vain. 
I related  the  school  story  how  Hannibal  had  worked  through 
the  Alps  with  hot  vinegar  and  hot  irons  ; this  experiment 
likewise  was  made,  but  Hannibal’s  solvent  had  no  better 
success  than  the  old  crone’s.  Peter,  being  of  a more 
passionate  nature,  grew  ultimately  quite  outrageous  ; he 
roared,  gnashed  his  teeth,  and  swore  vengeance  against  the 
mason  ; but  as  he  was  only  held  by  one  side,  a thought  at 
last  struck  him  ; he  asked  for  two  knives,  which  being 
brought,  he  whetted  one  against  the  other,  and  introducing 
the  blades  close  to  his  skull,  ^i^ed  away  at  cross  corners 
till  he  was  liberated,  with  the  loss  only  of  half  his  hair  and 
a piece  of  his  scalp,  which  he  had  sliced  off  in  zeal  and  haste 
for  his  liberty.  I never  saw  a fellow  so  extravagantly 
happy  ! Fur  was  scraped  from  the  crown  of  a hat  to  stop 
the  bleeding ; his  head  was  duly  tied  up  with  the  old  woman’s 
praskeen*  and  he  was  soon  in  a state  of  bodily  conva- 
lescence. Our  solicitude  was  now  required  solely  for  Joe, 
whose  head  was  too  deeply  buried  to  be  exhumated  with  so 
much  facility.  At  this  moment  Bob  Casey,  of  Ballynakill, 
a very  celebrated  wigmaker,  just  dropped  in  to  see  what  he 
could  pick  up  honestly  in  the  way  of  his  profession,  or  steal 
in  the  way  of  anything  else  ; and  he  immediately  undertook 
to  get  Mr.  Kelly  out  of  the  mortar  by  a very  expert  but 
tedious  process,  namely,  clipping  with  his  scissors  and  then 
rooting  out  with  an  oyster  knife.  He  thus  finally  succeeded 
in  less  than  an  hour  in  setting  Joe  once  more  at  liberty,  at 
the  price  of  his  queue,  which  was  totally  lost,  and  of  the 

* A coarse  dirty  apron,  worn  by  working  women  in  a kitchen  in  the 
country  parts  of  Ireland. 


my  brother’s  hunting-lodge. 


57 


exposure  of  his  raw  and  bleeding  occiput.  The  operation 
was,  indeed,  of  a mongrel  description — somewhat  between 
a complete  tonsure  and  an  imperfect  scalping,  to  both  of 
which  denominations  it  certainly  presented  claims.  How- 
ever, it  is  an  ill  wind  that  blows  nobody  good  ! Bob  Casey 
got  the  making  of  a skull-piece  for  Joe,  and  my  brother 
French  had  the  pleasure  of  paying  for  it,  as  gentlemen  in 
those  days  honoured  any  order  given  by  a guest  to  the 
family  shopkeeper  or  artizan. 

I ate  a hearty  breakfast,  returned  to  Durrow,  and  having 
joined  my  companion,  we  pursued  our  journey  to  Waterford, 
amusing  ourselves  the  greater  part  of  the  way  with  the 
circumstances  just  related,  which,  however,  I do  not  record 
merely  as  an  abstract  anecdote,  but,  as  I observed  in  starting, 
to  shew  the  manners  and  habits  of  Irish  country  society  and 
sportsmen  even  so  recently  as  thirty  years  ago  ; and  to  illus- 
trate the  changes  of  those  habits  and  manners,  and  the 
advances  towards  civilisation,  which,  coupled  with  the 
extraordinary  want  of  corresponding  prosperity , present 
phenomena  I am  desirous  of  impressing  upon  my  reader’s 
mind  throughout  the  whole  of  this  miscellaneous  collection 
of  original  anecdotes  and  observations. 


5« 


BARRINGTON  S RECOLLECTIONS. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

CHOICE  OF  PROFESSION. 

My  veering  opinion  as  to  a choice  of  profession  was  nearly 
decided  by  that  military  ardour  which  seized  all  Ireland, 
when  the  whole  country  had  entered  into  resolutions  to  free 
itself  for  ever  from  English  domination.  The  entire  king- 
dom took  up  arms,  regiments  were  formed  in  every  quarter, 
the  highest,  the  lowest,  and  the  middle  orders,  all  entered 
the  ranks  of  freedom,  and  every  corporation,  whether  civil 
or  military,  pledged  life  and  fortune  to  attain  and  establish 
Irish  independence. 

My  father  had  raised  and  commanded  two  corps — a 
dragoon  regiment  called  the  Cullenagh  Rangers,  and  the 
Ballyroan  Light  Infantry.  My  elder  brother  commanded 
the  Kilkenny  Horse  and  the  Durrow  Light  Dragoons.  The 
general  enthusiasm  caught  me,  and  before  I well  knew  what 
I was  about,  I found  myself  a military  martinet  and  a red-hot 
patriot.  Having  been  a university  man,  I was  also  con- 
sidered to  be,  of  course,  a writer , and  was  accordingly 
called  on  to  draw  up  resolutions  for  volunteer  regiments 
all  over  the  county.  This  was  the  first  tirade  I ever 
attempted  on  a political  subject  ; and  it  being  quite  short 
enough  and  warm  enough  to  be  comprehended  by  all  the 
parties,  it  was  unanimously  adopted,  every  man  swearing, 
as  he  kissed  the  blade  of  his  sword,  that  he  would  adhere 
to  these  resolutions  to  the  last  drop  of  his  blood,  which  he 
would  by  no  means  spare,  till  we  had  finally  achieved  the 
independence  of  our  country.  We  were  very  sincere, 
and  really,  I think,  determined  to  perish  if  necessary  in  the 
cause — at  least,  I am  sure,  I was  so. 


CHOICE  OF  PROFESSION. 


59 


The  national  point  was  gained,  but  not  without  much 
difficulty  and  danger.  The  Irish  parliament  had  refused  to 
grant  supplies  to  the  Crown  for  more  than  six  months.  The 
people  had  entered  into  resolutions  to  prevent  the  importa- 
tion of  any  British  merchandise  or  manufactures.  The 
entire  kingdom  had  disavowed  all  English  authority  or  juris- 
diction, external  or  internal  ; the  judges  and  magistrates 
had  declined  to  act  under  British  statutes  ; the  flame  had 
spread  rapidly  and  had  become  irresistible. 

The  British  Government  saw  that  either  temporising  or  an 
appeal  to  force  would  occasion  the  final  loss  of  Ireland  ; 
150,000  independent  soldiers,  well  armed,  well  clothed,  and 
well  disciplined,  were  not  to  be  coped  with,  and  England 
yielded.  Thus  the  volunteers  kept  their  oaths  ; they 
redeemed  their  pledge,  and  did  not  lay  down  their  arms 
until  the  independence  of  Ireland  had  been  pronounced 
from  the  throne,  and  the  distinctness  of  the  Irish  nation 
promulgated  in  the  Government  Gazette  of  London. 

Having  carried  our  point  with  the  English,  and  having 
proposed  to  prove  our  independence  by  going  to  war  with 
Portugal  about  our  linens,  we  completely  set  up  for  ourselves, 
except  that  Ireland  was  bound,  constitutionally  and  irrevo- 
cably, never  to  have  any  king  but  the  King  of  Great  Britain. 

We  were  now,  in  fact,  regularly  in  a fighting  mood  ; and 
being  quite  in  good  humour  with  England,  we  determined  to 
fight  the  French,  who  had  threatened  to  invade  us,  and  I 
recollect  a volunteer  belonging  to  one  of  my  father’s  corps, 
a schoolmaster  of  the  name  of  Beal,  proposing  a resolution 
to  the  Ballyroan  Infantry,  which  purported  “ that  they 
would  never  stop  fighting  the  French  till  they  had  flogged 
every  man  of  them  into  mincemeat  ! ” This  magnanimous 
resolution  was  adopted  with  cheers,  and  was,  as  usual, 
sworn  to , each  hero  kissing  the  muzzle  of  his  musket. 

I am  not  going  any  further  into  a history  of  those  times, 
to  which  I have  alluded  in  order  to  mention  what,  for  the 


6o 


Barrington’s  recollections. 


moment,  excited  my  warlike  ardour , and  fixed  my  deter- 
mination, although  but  temporarily,  to  adopt  the  military 
profession. 

On  communicating  this  decision  to  my  father,  he  procured 
me,  from  a friend  and  neighbour,  General  Hunt  Walsh,  a 
commission  in  that  officer’s  own  reigment,  the  30th.  The 
style  of  the  thing  pleased  me  very  well  ; but,  upon  being 
informed  that  I should  immediately  join  the  regiment,  in 
America,  my  heroic  tendencies  received  a serious  check.  I 
had  not  contemplated  transatlantic  emigration,  and  feeling 
that  I could  get  my  head  broken  just  as  well  in  my  own 
country,  I,  after  a few  days’  mature  consideration,  perceived 
my  military  ardour  grow  cooler  and  cooler  every  hour,  until 
at  length  it  was  obviously  defunct.  I therefore  wrote  to  the 
general  a most  thankful  letter,  but  at  the  same  time  “ begging 
the  favour  of  him  to  present  my  commission  in  his  regiment 
to  some  hardier  soldier,  who  could  serve  his  majesty  with 
more  vigour,  as  I,  having  been  brought  up  by  my  grand- 
mother, felt  as  yet  too  tender  to  be  any  way  effective  on 
foreign  service,  though  I had  no  objection  to  fight  as  much 
as  possible  in  Ireland,  if  necessary.”  The  general  accepted 
my  resignation,  and  presented  my  commission  to  a young 
friend  of  his,  whose  brains  were  blown  out  in  the  very  first 
engagement. 

Having  thus  rejected  the  military,  I next  turned  my 
thoughts  to  that  very  opposite  profession,  the  clerical.  But 
though  preaching  was  certainly  a much  safer  and  more 
agreeable  employment  than  bush-fighting,  yet  a curacy  and 
a wooden  leg  being  pretty  much  on  a parallel  in  point  of 
remuneration,  and  as  I had  the  strongest  objection  to  be 
half  starved  in  the  service  of  either  the  king  or  the  altar,  I 
also  declined  the  cassock,  assuring  my  father  that  “ I felt  I 
was  not  steady  enough  to  make  an  ‘ exemplary  parson,’  and 
as  any  other  kind  of  parson  generally  did  more  harm  than 
good  in  a country,  I could  not,  in  my  conscience,  take  charge 


CHOICE  OF  PROFESSION. 


6l 


of  the  morals  of  a flock  of  men,  women  and  children,  when 
I should  have  quite  enough  to  do  to  manage  my  own,  and  I 
should,  therefore,  leave  the  church  to  some  more  ortho- 
doxical  graduate/’ 

Medicine,  therefore,  was  the  next  in  the  list  of  professions 
to  which  I had  abstractedly  some  liking.  I had  attended 
several  courses  of  anatomical  lectures  in  Dublin,  and, 
although  with  some  repugnant  feelings,  I had  studied  that 
most  sublime  of  all  sciences,  human  organisation,  by  a 
persevering  attention  to  the  celebrated  wax-works  of  that 
university.  But  my  horror  and  disgust  of  animal  putridity 
in  all  its  branches  was  so  great,  inclusive  even  of  stinking 
venison,  which  most  people  admire,  that  all  surgical  practice 
by  me  was  necessarily  out  of  the  question,  and  medicine 
without  surgery  presenting  no  better  chance  than  a curacy, 
it  shared  an  equally  bad  fate  with  the  sword  and  the  pulpit. 

Of  the  liberal  and  learned  professions  there  now  remained 
but  one,  namely,  the  law.  Now,  as  to  this  I was  told  by 
several  old  practitioners,  who  had  retired  into  the  country, 
from  having  no  business  to  do  in  town,  that  if  I was 
even  as  wise  as  Alfred,  or  as  learned  as  Lycurgus,  nobody 
would  give  me  sixpence  for  all  my  law,  if  I had  a hundred- 
weight of  it,  until  I had  spent  at  least  ten  years  in  watching 
the  manufacture.  However,  they  consoled  me  by  saying 
that  if  I could  put  up  with  light  eating  and  water-drinking 
during  that  period,  I might  then  have  a very  reasonable 
chance  of  getting  some  briefs,  particularly  after  having  a 
gang  of  attorneys  to  dine  with  me.  Here  I was  damped 
again  ! and  though  I should  have  broken  my  heart  if  con- 
demned to  remain  much  longer  a walking  gentleman,  I 
determined  to  wait  a while,  and  see  if  nature  would  open 
my  propensities  a little  wider,  and  give  me  some  more 
decisive  indication  of  what  she  thought  me  fittest  for. 

Whilst  in  this  comfortless  state  of  indecision,  my  father, 
like  other  country  gentlemen,  to  gratify  his  lady  under  the 


62 


Barrington’s  recollections. 


shape  of  educating  his  children,  gave  his  consent  to  be 
launched  into  the  new  scenes  and  pleasures  of  a city 
residence.  He  accordingly  purchased  an  excellent  house 
in  Clare  Street,  Merrion  Square,  left  a steward  in  the 
country  to  mmnanage  his  concerns  there,  made  up  new 
wardrobes  for  the  servants,  got  a fierce  three-cocked  hat 
for  himself,  and  removed  his  establishment,  the  hounds 
excepted,  to  the  metropolis  of  Ireland. 

Here  my  good  and  well-bred  mother,  for  such  she  was, 
had  her  Galway  pride  revived  and  gratified  ; the  green  coach 
de  certmonie  was  regilt  and  regarnished,  and  four  black 
horses,  with  two  postilions  and  a sixteen-stone  footman, 
completed  her  equipage. 

I had  my  bit  of  blood  in  the  stable  ; my  elder  brother,  who 
had  been  in  the  ist  Horse,  had  plenty  of  them — my  father 
had  his  old  hunter,  “ brown  Jack  ; ” and  we  set  out  at  what 
is  commonly  called  a great  rate — but  which  great  rates  are 
generally  like  a fox-chase,  more  hot  than  durable.  However, 
the  thing  went  on  well  enough  ; and  during  our  city  resi- 
dence many  pleasurable  and  many  whimsical  incidents 
occurred  to  me  and  other  individuals  of  my  family  ; one  of 
which  was  most  interesting  to  myself,  and  will  form  a leading 
feature  in  my  subsequent  Memoirs. 

Before  adverting  to  this,  however,  I will  mention  a 
lamentable  event  which  occurred  during  our  stay  in  Clare 
Street,  to  a neighbour  of  ours,  Captain  O’Flaherty,  brother 
to  Sir  John,  whom  I shall  hereafter  notice.  The  captain 
resided  nearly  facing  us,  and  though  the  event  I speak  of,  and 
the  very  extraordinary  incident  which  succeeded  it,  are 
clearly  digressions,  yet  the  whole  story  is  so  interesting 
that  I will,  without  further  apology,  introduce  it. 


MURDER  OF  CAPTAIN  O’FLAHERTY 


63 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

MURDER  OF  CAPTAIN  O’FLAHERTY. 

Captain  O’Flaherty,  a most  respectable  gentleman, 
resided  in  Clare  Street,  Dublin,  exactly  opposite  my  father’s 
house.  He  had  employed  a person  of  the  name  of  Lanegan 
as  tutor  to  the  late  John  Burke  O’Flaherty  and  his  other 
sons.  But  after  some  little  time  Lanegan  became  more 
attentive  to  Mrs.  O’Flaherty,  the  mother,  than  to  her  boys. 

This  woman  had  certainly  no  charms  either  of  appearance 
or  address  which  might  be  thought  calculated  to  captivate 
anyone  ; and  there  was  a something  indescribably  repulsive 
in  her  general  manners,  in  consequence  whereof  all  acquaint- 
ance between  her  and  our  family  soon  terminated.  She  was 
not  satisfied  with  the  occasional  society  of  Mr.  Lanegan, 
whilst  he  continued  in  the  house  as  tutor,  but  actually  pro- 
ceeded to  form  a criminal  intercourse  with  him  ; and  in 
order  to  free  herself  from  all  restraint,  meditated  the  very 
blackest  of  human  crimes,  which  she  determined  to  per- 
petrate by  giving  the  unfortunate  captain  a rice-pudding  for 
his  dinner,  by  virtue  whereof  she  might  at  any  rate  be  saved 
the  trouble  of  ever  making  another  for  him. 

Mr.  Lanegan  was  with  this  view  sent  by  her  to  several 
apothecaries’  shops,  at  each  of  which,  to  avoid  suspicion , 
he  asked  for  a very  little  stuff  to  kill  the  rats  ! and  thus,  by 
small  portions,  they  ultimately  procured  a sufficient  quantity 
to  kill  not  only  the  rats,  but  the  husband  into  the  bargain. 

The  murderous  scheme  was  carried  into  execution  by 
Mrs.  O’Flaherty  herself,  and  the  captain  was  found  dead  in 
his  bed  ! Some  misgivings,  however,  were  generated  from 
the  appearance  of  the  body,  which  swelled  and  exhibited 
black  spots  ; and  these,  with  other  unequiwcal  signs,  con- 


64 


Barrington’s  recollections. 


spired  to  prove  that  the  rats,  for  they  were  actually  dealt 
with,  had  not  been  the  only  sufferers.  The  Coroner’s 
inquest,  indeed,  soon  decided  the  matter,  by  a verdict  of 
“ Poisoned  by  Arsenic .” 

Mrs.  O’Flaherty  and  Mr.  Lanegan  began  now  to  suspect 
that  they  were  in  rather  a ticklish  situation,  and  determined 
to  take  a private  journey  into  the  country  until  they  should 
discover  how  things  were  likely  to  go.  The  adulterous  wife, 
full  of  crime  and  terror,  conceived  a suspicion  that  Lanegan, 
who  had  only  purchased  the  poison  by  her  directions,  and 
had  not  administered  it,  except  to  the  rats,  might  turn  king’s 
evidence,  get  the  reward,  and  save  himself  by  convicting 
her.  Such  a catastrophe  she  therefore  determined  if  possible 
to  prevent. 

On  their  journey  she  told  him  that,  upon  full  considera- 
tion, she  conceived  there  could  be  no  possibility  of  bringing 
conclusive  evidence  against  them,  inasmuch  as  it  would 
appear  most  probable  that  the  captain  had,  by  accident, 
taken  the  poison  himself,  and  that  she  was  determined  to 
surrender  and  take  her  trial  as  soon  as  possible,  recom- 
mending Mr.  Lanegan  to  do  the  same.  In  pursuance  of 
this  decision,  as  they  passed  near  the  town  of  Gowran, 
County  Kilkenny,  she  said,  “ There  is  the  gate  of  a magis- 
trate ; do  you  go  up  first,  put  on  a bold  face,  assure  him  of 
your  entire  innocence,  and  say  that  as  infamous  and  false 
reports  have  been  spread,  both  of  yourself  and  me,  you 
came  expressly  to  surrender  and  take  your  trial,  and  that 
you  could  not  live  in  society  under  such  vile  imputations  ! 
Say,  also,  that  you  hear  Mrs.  O’Flaherty  intends  likewise  to 
surrender  herself  in  the  evening,  and  request  that  he  will  be 
at  home  to  receive  her.” 

Lanegan,  suspecting  no  fraud,  followed  these  instructions 
literally.  He  was  secured,  though  without  roughness,  and 
preparations  were  made  for  his  being  taken  to  Dublin 
next  day  in  custody.  The  magistrate  waited  for  Mrs. 


MURDER  OF  CAPTAIN  O’FLAHERTY. 


65 


O’Flaherty,  but  she  did  not  appear  ; he  sent  down  to  his 
gatehouse  to  know  if  any  lady  had  passed  by  ; the  porter 
informed  him  that  a lady  and  gentleman  had  been  near  the 
gate  in  a carriage  in  the  morning,  and  that  the  gentleman 
got  out  and  went  up  the  avenue  to  the  house,  after  which 
the  lady  had  driven  away. 

It  now  appearing  that  they  had  been  actually  together, 
and  that  Lanegan  had  been  telling  falsehoods  respecting  his 
companion,  strong  suspicions  arose  in  the  mind  of  the 
magistrate.  His  prisoner  was  confined  more  closely,  sent 
under  a strong  guard  to  Dublin,  indicted  for  murder,  and 
tried  at  the  ensuing  assizes. 

Positive  evidence  was  given  of  Lanegan ’s  criminal  con- 
nection with  Mrs.  O’Flaherty,  coupled  with  the  strongest 
circumstantial  proof  against  him.  He  had  not  the  courage 
boldly  to  deny  the  fact,  and  being  found  guilty,  was 
sentenced  to  be  hanged  and  quartered  ; the  former  part  of 
which  sentence  having  being  carried  into  execution,  and  his 
body  cut  on  each  limb,  it  was  delivered  up  to  his  mother 
for  burial.  Mrs.  O’Flaherty  escaped  beyond  sea,  and  has, 
I believe,  never  since  been  heard  of  in  the  country. 

Such  is  the  history  which  forms  the  prelude  to  an  occur- 
rence in  which  I was  a party,  several  years  after,  and  which 
may  be  regarded  as  a curious  illustration  of  stories  of 
supposed  ghosts. 

A Templar  and  a friend  of  mine,  Mr.  David  Lander,  a 
soft,  fat,  good-humoured,  superstitious  young  fellow,  was 
sitting  in  his  lodgings,  Devereux  Court,  London,  one 
evening  at  twilight.  I was  with  him,  and  we  were  agree- 
ably employed  in  eating  strawberries  and  drinking  Madeira. 
While  thus  chatting  away  in  cheerful  mood,  and  laughing 
loudly  at  some  remark  made  by  one  of  us,  my  back  being 
towards  the  door,  I perceived  my  friend’s  colour  suddenly 
change — his  eyes  seemed  fixed  and  ready  to  start  out  of  his 
head,  his  lips  quivered  convulsively,  his  teeth  chattered, 

(D311)  F 


66 


Barrington’s  recollections. 


large  drops  of  perspiration  flowed  down  his  forehead,  and 
his  hair  stood  nearly  erect. 

As  I saw  nothing  calculated  to  excite  these  emotions,  I 
naturally  conceived  my  friend  was  seized  with  a fit,  and 
rose  to  assist  him.  He  did  not  regard  my  movements  in 
the  least,  but  seizing  a knife  which  lay  on  the  table,  with 
the  gait  of  a palsied  man  retreated  backwards,  his  eyes  still 
fixed,  to  the  distant  part  of  the  room,  where  he  stood 
shivering  and  attempting  to  pray  ; but  not  at  that  moment 
recollecting  any  prayer,  he  began  to  repeat  his  catechism, 
thinking  it  the  next  best  thing  he  could  do  : as — “ What  is 
your  name  ? David  Lander  ! Who  gave  you  that  name  ? 
My  godfathers  and  godmothers  in  my  baptism  ! ” etc. 

I instantly  concluded  the  man  was  mad,  and,  turning 
about  to  go  for  some  assistance,  I was  myself  not  a little 
startled  at  sight  of  a tall,  rough-looking  personage,  many 
days  unshaved,  in  a very  shabby  black  dress,  and  altogether 
of  the  most  uncouth  appearance. 

“ Don’t  be  frightened,  Mr.  Lander,”  said  the  figure ; “ sure 
’tis  me  that’s  here.” 

When  Davy  Lander  heard  the  voice  he  fell  on  his  knees, 
and  subsequently  flat  upon  his  face,  in  which  position  he 
lay  motionless. 

The  spectre  (as  I now  began  to  imagine  it)  stalked  towards 
the  door,  and  I was  in  hopes  he  intended  to  make  his  exit 
thereby ; instead  of  which,  however,  having  deliber- 
ately shut  and  bolted  it,  he  sat  himself  down  in  the  chair 
which  I had  previously  occupied,  with  a countenance  nearly 
as  full  of  horror  as  that  of  Davy  Lander  himself. 

I was  now  totally  bewildered,  and  scarce  knowing  what 
to  do,  was  about  to  throw  a jug  of  water  over  my  friend  to 
revive  him  if  possible,  when  the  stranger,  in  a harsh  croaking 
voice,  cried  : 

“ For  the  love  of  God,  give  me  some  of  that,  for  I am 
perishing  ! ” 


MURDER  OR  CAPTAIN  O’FLAHERTY.  67 

I accordingly  did  so,  and  he  took  the  jug  and  drank 
immoderately. 

My  friend  Davy  now  ventured  to  look  up  a little,  and 
perceiving  that  I was  becoming  so  familiar  with  the  goblin, 
his  courage  somewhat  revived,  but  still  his  speech  was 
difficult  ; he  stammered  and  gazed  at  the  figure  for  some 
time,  but  at  length  made  up  his  mind  that  it  was  tangible 
and  mortal.  The  effect  of  this  decision  on  the  face  of  Davy 
was  as  ludicrous  as  the  fright  had  been.  He  seemed  quite 
ashamed  of  his  former  terror,  and  affected  to  be  stout  as  a 
lion  ! though  it  was  visible  that  he  was  not  yet  at  his  ease. 
He  now  roared  out  in  the  broad,  cursing  Kerry  dialect — 
“ Why  then,  blood  and  thunder,  is  that  you,  Lanegan  ? ” 
“ Ah,  sir,  speak  easy,”  said  the  wretched  being. 

“ How  the  devil,”  resumed  Davy,  “ did  you  get  your  four 
quarters  stitched  together  again,  after  the  hangman  cut  them 
off  of  you  at  Stephen’s  Green  ! ” 

“ Ah,  gentlemen  ! ” exclaimed  the  poor  culprit,  “ speak 
low  ; have  mercy  on  me,  Master  Davy  ; you  know  it  was  I 
taught  you  your  Latin — I’m  starving  to  death  ! ” 

“ You  shall  not  die  in  that  way,  you  villainous  school- 
master ! ” said  Davy,  pushing  towards  him  a loaf  of  bread 
and  a bottle  of  wine  that  stood  on  the  table. 

The  miserable  creature  having  ate  the  bread  with  avidity, 
and  drunk  two  or  three  glasses  of  wine,  the  lamp  of  life 
once  more  seemed  to  brighten  up.  After  a pause  he  com- 
municated every  circumstance  relating  to  his  sudden 
appearance  before  us.  He  confessed  having  bought  the 
arsenic  at  the  desire  of  Mrs.  O’Flaherty,  and  that  he  was 
aware  of  the  application  of  it,  but  solemnly  protested  that  it 
was  she  who  had  seduced  him  ; he  then  proceeded  to  inform 
us  that  after  having  been  duly  hanged  the  sheriff  had  de- 
livered his  body  to  his  mother,  but  not  until  the  executioner 
had  given  a cut  on  each  limb  to  save  the  law ; which  cuts  bled 
profusely,  and  were  probably  the  means  of  preserving  his  life. 


68 


Barrington’s  recollections. 


His  mother  conceived  that  the  vital  spark  was  not  extinct,  and 
therefore  had  put  him  into  bed,  dressed  his  wounded  limbs, 
and  rubbed  his  neck  with  hot  vinegar.  Having  steadily 
pursued  this  process,  and  accompanied  it  by  pouring  warm 
brandy  and  water  down  his  throat,  in  the  course  of  an  hour 
he  was  quite  sensible,  but  experienced  horrid  pains  for 
several  weeks  before  his  final  recovery.  His  mother  filled 
the  coffin  he  was  brought  home  in  with  bricks,  and  got 
some  men  to  bury  it  the  same  night  in  Kilmainham  burial- 
ground,  as  if  ashamed  to  inter  him  in  open  day.  For  a 
long  time  he  was  unable  to  depart,  being  every  moment  in 
dread  of  discovery  ; at  length,  however,  he  got  off  by  night 
in  a smuggling  boat,  which  landed  him  on  the  Isle  of  Man, 
and  from  thence  he  contrived  to  reach  London,  bearing  a 
letter  from  a priest  at  Kerry  to  another  priest  who  had  lived 
in  the  Borough,  the  purport  of  which  was  to  get  him  admitted 
into  a monastery  in  France.  But  he  found  the  Southwark 
priest  was  dead  ; and  though  he  possessed  some  money,  he 
was  afraid  even  to  buy  food  for  fear  of  detection  ! but 
recollecting  that  Mr.  Lander,  his  old  scholar,  lived  some- 
where in  the  Temple,  he  got  directed  by  a porter  to  the 
lodging. 

My  friend,  Davy,  though  he  did  not  half  like  it,  suffered 
this  poor  devil  to  sit  in  the  chamber  till  the  following  even- 
ing. He  then  procured  him  a place  in  the  night  coach  to 
Rye,  from  whence  he  got  to  St.  Vallery,  and  was  received, 
as  I afterwards  learnt  from  a very  grateful  letter  which  he 
sent  to  Lander,  into  the  Monastery  of  La  Trappe,  near 
Abbeville,  where  he  lived  in  strict  seclusion,  and  died  some 
years  since. 

This  incident  is  not  related  as  a a mere  isolated  anecdote, 
unconnected  with  any  serious  general  considerations  ; but 
rather  with  a view  to  shew  how  many  deceptions  a man’s 
imagination  may  hastily  subject  him  to,  and  to  impress  the 
consideration  that  nothing  should  be  regarded  as  super- 


MURDER  OF  CAPTAIN  O’FLAHERTY.  69 

natural  which  can  by  possibility  be  the  result  of  human 
interference. 

In  the  present  case,  if  Lanegan  had  withdrawn  before 
Lander  had  arisen  and  spoken  to  him,  no  reasoning  upon 
earth  could  ever  had  convinced  the  Templar  of  the  materi- 
ality of  the  vision.  As  Lanegan’s  restoration  to  life  after 
execution  had  not  at  that  time  been  spoken  of,  nor  even 
suspected,  Lander  would  have  willingly  deposed  upon  the 
Holy  Evangelists  that  he  had  seen  the  actual  ghost  of  the 
schoolmaster  who  had  been  hanged  and  quartered  in  Dublin 
a considerable  time  before — his  identification  of  the  man’s 
person  being  rendered  unequivocal  from  the  circumstance 
of  his  having  been  formerly  Lanegan’s  pupil.  And  I must 
confess  that  I should  myself  have  seen  no  reason  to  doubt 
Lander’s  assertions,  had  the  man  withdrawn  from  the 
chamber  before  he  spoke  to  me — to  do  which,  under  the 
circumstances,  it  was  by  no  means  improbable  fear  might 
have  induced  him. 

Thus  one  of  the  best  “ authenticated  ghost  stories  ever 
related  ” has  been  lost  to  the  history  of  supernatural  occur- 
rences. The  circumstance,  however,  did  not  cure  Davy 
Lander  in  the  least  of  his  dread  of  apparitions,  which  was 
excessive. 

Nor  have  I much  right  to  reproach  my  friend’s  weakness 
in  this  particular.  I have,  on  the  other  hand,  throughout 
my  writings  admitted — nay,  I fear,  occasionally  boasted — 
that  I was  myself  superstitious.  The  species  of  reading  I 
adopted  and  ardently  pursued  from  my  infancy  upwards 
may,  I admit,  have  impressed  my  mind  indelibly  ; and  the 
consciousness  of  this  fact  should  have  served  to  render  me 
rather  sceptical  than  credulous  upon  any  subject  that  bore  a 
mysterious  character. 

My  relations,  whilst  I was  a boy,  took  it  into  their  heads 
that  I was  a decided  coward  in  this  way,  and,  though  I in 
round  terms  denied  the  imputation,  I freely  admitted  at 


70 


BARRINGTON  S RECOLLECTIONS, 


the  same  time  my  coyness  with  regard  to  trying  any  un- 
necessary experiments  or  making  any  superstitious  invoca- 
tions, particularly  on  All-hallow  Eve,  or  other  mysterious 
days,  whereupon  a sort  of  bastard  witchcraft  is  always 
practised  in  Ireland. 

Hence  I was  universally  ridiculed  on  those  anniversaries 
for  my  timidity  ; and  one  All-hallow  Eve  my  father  proposed 
to  have  a prayer-book,  with  a £5  bank-note  in  it,  left  on  a 
certain  tomb-stone  in  an  old  Catholic  burial-ground  quite 
apart  from  any  road,  and  covered  with  trees.  It  was  two 
or  three  fields’  distance  from  the  dwelling-house  ; and  the 
proposal  was,  that  if  I would  go  there  at  twelve  o’clock  at 
night,  and  bring  back  the  book  and  a dead  man’s  bone, 
many  of  which  latter  were  scattered  about  the  cemetery, 
the  note  should  be  mine  ; and,  as  an  additional  encourage- 
ment, I was  never  after  to  be  charged  with  cowardice.  My 
pride  took  fire,  and  I determined,  even  though  I might 
burst  a blood-vessel  through  agitation,  or  break  my  neck 
in  running  home  again,  I would  perform  the  feat,  and  put 
an  end  to  the  imputation. 

The  matter,  therefore,  was  fully  arranged.  The  night 
proved  very  dark  ; the  path  was  intricate,  but  I was  accus- 
tomed to  it.  There  were  two  or  three  stiles  to  be  crossed  ; 
and  the  Irish  always  conceive  that  if  a ghost  is  anywhere  in 
the  neighbourhood,  he  invariably  chooses  a stile  at  which  to 
waylay  the  passengers. 

However,  at  the  appointed  hour  I set  out.  I daresay 
most  ladies  and  gentlemen  who  may  read  this  know  what 
palpitation  of  the  heart  means  ; if  so,  let  them  be  so  good  as 
to  fancy  an  excess  of  that  feeling,  and  they  may  then  form 
some  idea  of  the  sensations  with  which  I first  touched 
the  cold  gravestones  of  the  dead,  who,  if  they  had 
had  any  sensibility,  would  have  prevented  their  bones  from 
being  made  the  subject  of  ridiculous  experiment. 

Having  groped  for  some  time  in  the  dark,  I found  the 


MURDER  OF  CAPTAIN  O’FLAHERTY.  71 

book,  but  my  hand  refused  to  lift  it,  and  I sat  down  panting 
and  starting  at  every  rustle  of  the  foliage  ; through  the  gloom 
wherewith  the  trunks  and  branches  of  the  trees  were  invested 
my  excited  imagination  conjured  up  figures  and  shapes 
which  I expected  at  every  glance  would  open  into  skeletons 
or  shrouded  spectres  ! I would  at  that  moment  have  given 
the  world  to  be  at  home  again,  but  I really  could  not  stir — 
my  breath  had  got  too  short,  and  my  eyesight  too  confused 
for  motion. 

By  degrees  these  sensations  subsided.  I obtained  a little 
confidence,  the  moving  of  a branch  no  longer  startled  me, 
and  I should  have  got  on  well  enough  had  not  an  unlucky 
goat,  which  came  roaming  near  the  place,  though  with  a 
different  object,  thrown  me  into  a complete  relapse.  At  the 
conclusion  of  about  half  an  hour,  however,  which  appeared 
to  me  at  least  five  and  twenty  years,  I secured  the  book 
snugly  in  my  pocket,  together  wdth  a dead  man’s  thigh- 
bone, which  I tied  up  in  a cloth  brought  with  me  for  the 
purpose,  and  fastening  it  round  my  waist,  lest  it  should  drop 
during  my  flight,  I made  a very  rapid  exit  from  this  scene  of 
perilous  achievement. 

Having  reached  the  house  in  triumph,  and  taken  a large 
tumbler  of  wine,  I proceeded  to  exhibit  my  book,  put  the 
bank-note  in  my  pocket,  and  with  an  affectation  of  uncon- 
cern untied  my  cloth  and  flung  my  huge  bone  upon  the 
supper  table.  I had  my  full  revenge  ! The  women,  vdio 
had  been  amusing  themselves  by  telling  each  other’s 
fortune,  were  cruelly  shocked,  they  all  una  voce  set  up  a loud 
shriek,  and  whilst  some  were  half  swooning,  others  ran 
headlong  out  of  the  room.  My  courage  now  grew  rampant  ; 
I said,  if  they  pleased,  they  might  leave  the  bone  on  the  top 
of  my  bed  till  morning,  and  that  wrould  sufficiently  shew 
who  was  most  in  dread  of  dead  people  ! 

Confidence  wtls  at  length  restored  on  all  sides.  I was  half 
cured  of  my  superstitious  fears,  and  the  family  universally 


7* 


Barrington’s  recollections. 


admitted  that  I certainly  should  make  a brave  general  if  I 
went  into  the  army.  We  made  merry  till  a late  hour,  when 
I retired  joyously  to  bed,  and  sleep  very  soon  began  to  make 
still  further  amends  for  my  terrors. 

While  dreaming  away  most  agreeably,  I was  suddenly 
aroused  by  a rustling  noise  for  which  I could  not  account. 
I sat  up,  and,  upon  listening,  found  it  to  proceed  from  the 
top  of  my  bed,  whereon  something  was  in  rapid  motion. 
The  dead  man’s  thigh-bone  immediately  started  into  my 
recollection,  and  horrible  ideas  flashed  across  my  mind.  A 
profuse  perspiration  burst  out  at  once  on  my  forehead,  my 
hair  rose,  the  cramp  seized  both  my  legs,  and  just  gathering 
power  to  call  out,  “ Murder,  murder  ! — help ! help  ! ” I buried 
my  head  under  the  clothes.  In  this  situation  I could  neither 
hear  nor  see,  and  was  besides  almost  suffocated  ; after  a 
while  I began  to  think  I might  have  been  dreaming,  and 
with  that  idea  thrusting  my  head  fearfully  out,  the  bone,  for 
that  it  certainly  was,  sprang  with  a tremendous  crash  from 
the  bed  down  beside  me  upon  the  floor,  where  it  exhibited  as 
many  signs  of  life  as  when  its  owner  was  in  existence. 
Upon  viewing  this,  my  spirit  sank  again,  I shook  like  a man 
in  an  ague,  gave  some  inarticulate  screams,  and,  at  length, 
dropped  back  nearly  senseless  upon  the  pillow. 

How  long  I lay  thus  I know  not  ; I only  remember  that 
the  bone  still  continued  its  movements,  and  now  and  then 
striking  a chair  or  table,  warned  me  of  my  probable  fate 
from  its  justly  enraged  proprietor,  who  I was  apprehensive 
would  soon  appear  to  demand  his  undoubted  property. 
Had  the  scene  continued  long,  I actually  believe  I should 
scarce  have  survived  it  ; but  at  last  paradise  seemed  all  on 
the  sudden  to  be  regained,  though  in  no  overy  orthodox  way. 
A loud  laugh  at  the  door  clearly  announced  that  I had  been 
well  played  off  upon  by  the  ladies  for  my  abrupt  display  of 
a dead  man’s  bone  on  the  supper  table.  The  whole  of  the 
young  folks  entered  my  room  in  a body  with  candles,  and 


MURDER  OF  CAPTAIN  O’FLAHERTY. 


73 


after  having  been  re-assured,  and  nourished  by  a tumbler  of 
buttered  white  wine,  I obtained  by  degrees  knowledge 
of  the  trick  which  had  occasioned  a laugh  so  loud,  so  long, 
and  so  mortifying  to  my  self-conceit. 

The  device  was  simple  enough — a couple  of  cords  had 
been  tied  to  the  bone,  and  drawn  under  the  door,  which 
was  at  the  bed’s  foot,  and  by  pulling  these  alternately 
the  conspirators  kept  the  bone  in  motion  until  their  good- 
humoured  joke  had  well  nigh  resulted  in  the  loss  of  their 
kinsman’s  reason. 


74 


BARRINGTON  S RECOLLECTIONS 


CHAPTER  IX. 

ADOPTION  OF  THE  LAW. 

My  father  still  conceived  that  the  military  profession  was 
best  suited  to  my  ardent  and  volatile  spirit.  I was  myself, 
however,  of  a different  opinion  ; and  fortune  shortly  fixed 
my  determination.  An  incident  occurred  which,  uniting 
passion,  judgment,  and  ambition,  led  me  to  decide  that 
the  Bar  was  the  only  road  to  my  happiness  or  celebrity  ; 
and  accordingly  I finally  and  irrevocably  resolved  that 
the  law  should  be  the  future  occupation  of  my  life  and 
studies. 

The  recollection  of  the  incident  to  which  I have  alluded 
excites,  even  at  this  moment,  all  the  sensibility  and  regret 
which  can  survive  a grand  climacteric  and  four-and-forty 
years  of  vicissitude.  I shall  not  dilate  upon  it  extensively  ; 
and,  in  truth,  were  it  not  that  these  personal  fragments  would 
be  otherwise  still  more  incomplete,  I should  remain  alto- 
gether silent  on  a subject  which  revives  in  my  mind  so  many 
painful  reflections. 

My  elder  brother  married  the  only  daughter  of  Mr. 
Edwards,  of  Old  Court,  County  Wicklow.  The  individuals 
of  both  families  attended  that  marriage,  which  was,  indeed,  a 
public  one.  The  bridemaid  of  Miss  Edwards  was  the  then 

admired  Miss  D.  W . This  lady  was  about  my  own 

age  ; her  father  had  been  a senior  Fellow  of  Dublin  Uni- 
versity, and  had  retired  on  large  church  preferments.  Her 
uncle,  with  whom  she  was  at  that  time  residing,  was  a very 
eminent  barrister  in  the  Irish  capital.  She  had  but  one 
sister,  and  I was  soon  brought  to  think  she  had  no  equal 
whatever. 


ADOPTION  OF  THE  LAW. 


IS 


Those  who  read  this  will  perhaps  anticipate  a story  of  a 
volatile  lad  struck,  in  the  midst  of  an  inspiring  ceremony, 
by  the  beauty  of  a lively  and  engaging  female,  and  sur- 
rendering without  resistance  his  boyish  heart  to  the  wild 
impulse  of  the  moment.  This  supposition  is,  I admit,  a 
natural  one,  but  it  is  unfounded.  Neither  beauty,  nor 
giddy  passion,  nor  the  glare  of  studied  attractions  ever 
enveloped  me  in  their  labyrinths.  Nobody  admired  female 
loveliness  more  than  myself  ; but  beauty  in  the  abstract 
never  excited  within  me  that  delirium  which  has  so  im- 
partially made  fools  of  kings  and  beggars — of  heroes  and 
cowards  ; and  to  which  the  wisest  professors  of  law,  physic, 
and  divinity  have  from  time  immemorial  surrendered 
their  liberty  and  their  reason. 

Regularity  of  feature  is  very  distinct  from  expression  of 
countenance,  which  I never  yet  saw  mere  symmetry  success- 
fully rival.  I thank  heaven  that  I never  was  either  the 
captive  or  the  victim  of  “ perfect  beauty  ” ; in  fact,  I never 
loved  any  handsome  woman  save  one,  who  still  lives,  and  I 
hope  will  do  so  long  ; those  whom  I admired  most,  when  I 
was  of  an  age  to  admire  any,  had  no  great  reason  to  be 
grateful  for  the  munificence  of  creating  Nature. 

Were  I to  describe  the  person  of  D.  W , I should  say 

that  she  had  no  beauty  ; but,  on  the  contrary,  seemed  rather 
to  have  been  selected  as  a foil  to  set  off  the  almost  trans- 
parent delicacy  of  the  bride  whom  she  attended.  Her  figure 
was  graceful,  it  is  true  ; but,  generally  speaking,  I incline  to 
think  that  few  ladies  would  have  envied  her  perfections. 
Her  dark  and  rather  deep-sunk,  yet  penetrating  and  ani- 
mated eye,  could  never  have  reconciled  their  looking- 
glasses  to  the  sombre  and  swarthy  complexion  which 
surrounded  it  ; nor  the  carmine  of  her  pouting  lip  to  the 
disproportioned  extent  of  feature  which  it  tinted.  In  fine, 
as  I began,  so  will  I conclude  my  personal  description — • 
she  had  no  beauty . But  she  seems  this  moment  before 


76 


Barrington’s  recollections. 


me  as  in  a vision.  I see  her  countenance  busied  in  unceasing 
converse  with  her  heart  ; now  illuminated  by  brilliant  wit, 
now  softened  down  by  sense  and  sensibility — the  wild 
spirit  of  the  former  changing  like  magic  into  the  steadier 
movements  of  the  latter  ; the  serious  glance  silently  com- 
manding restraint  and  caution,  whilst  the  counteracting 
smile  even  at  the  same  moment  set  caution  at  defiance. 
But  upon  this  subject  I shall  desist,  and  only  remark  further, 
that  before  I was  aware  of  the  commencement  of  its  passion, 
my  whole  heart  was  hers  ! 

D.  W was  at  that  time  the  fashion  in  society  ; many 

admired,  but  I know  of  none  who  loved  her  save  myself, 
and  it  must  have  been  through  some  attractive  congeniality 
of  mind  that  our  attachment  became  mutual. 

It  will  doubtless  appear  unaccountable  to  many  whence 
the  spell  arose  by  virtue  of  which  I was  thus  bound  to  a 
female,  from  whom  every  personal  attribute  seems  to  have 
been  withheld  by  Nature.  But  I am  unable  to  solve  the 

enigma.  I once  ventured  myself  to  ask  D.  W if  she 

could  tell  me  why  I loved  her  ? She  answered  by  returning 
the  question  ! and  hence,  neither  of  us  being  able  to  give  an 
explicit  reason,  we  mutually  agreed  that  the  query  was 
unanswerable. 

There  are  four  short  words  in  the  French  language  which 
have  a power  of  expressing  what  in  English  is  inexplicable — 
“ jfe  ne  sais  quoi, ” — and  to  these  in  my  dilemma  I resorted. 
I do  not  now  wish  the  phrase  to  be  understood  in  a senti- 
mental vein,  or,  in  the  set  terms  of  young  ladies,  as  “ a nice 
expression  ! ” In  my  mind  it  is  an  amatory  idiom,  and  in 
those  few  words  conveys  more  meaning  than  could  a hundred 
pages. 

I have  said  that  the  phrase  is  inexplicable  ; but,  in  like 
manner,  as  we  are  taught  to  aim  at  perfection  whilst  we 
know  it  to  be  unattainable,  so  will  I endeavour  to  characterise 
the  “ Je  ne  sais  quoi  ” as  meaning  a species  of  indefinable 


ADOPTION  OF  THE  LAW. 


77 


grace  which  gives  despotic  power  to  a female.  When  we 
praise  in  detail  the  abstract  beauties  or  merits  of  a woman, 
each  of  them  may  form  matter  for  argument  or  subject  for 
the  exercise  of  various  tastes  ; but  of  the  “ Je  ne  sais  quoi  ” 
there  is  no  specification,  and  upon  it  there  can  be  no 
reasoning.  It  is  that  fascinating  enigma  which  expresses 
all  without  expressing  anything  ; that  mysterious  source  of 
attraction  which  we  can  neither  discover  nor  account  for, 
and  which  nor  beauty,  nor  wit,  nor  education,  nor  anything, 
in  short,  but  nature , ever  can  create. 

D.  W was  the  fashion  ; but  she  depended  solely  as  to 

fortune  on  her  father  and  her  uncle.  I was  the  third  son 
of  a largely  estated  but  not  prudent  family,  and  was  entitled 
to  a younger  child’s  portion  in  addition  to  some  exclusive 
property  ; but  I had  passed  twenty-one,  and  had  not  even 
fixed  on  a profession  ; therefore,  the  only  probable  result  of 
our  attachment  seemed  to  be  misery  and  disappointment. 
Notwithstanding,  when  in  the  same  neighbourhood  we  met, 
when  separate  we  corresponded  ; but  her  good  sense  at 
length  perceived  that  some  end  must  be  put  to  this  state  of 
clandestine  intercourse,  from  which,  although  equally 
condemning  it,  we  had  not  been  able  to  abstain.  Her 
father  died,  and  she  became  entitled  to  a third  of  his  estate 
and  effects  ; but  this  accession  was  insufficient  to  justify 
the  accomplishment  of  our  union.  I saw,  and  with  a half- 
broken  heart  acquiesced  in  her  view  of  its  impossibility 
until  I should  have  acquired  some  productive  profession. 
She  suggested  that  there  was  no  other  course  but  the  Bar, 
which  might  conciliate  her  uncle.  The  hint  was  sufficient, 
and  we  then  agreed  to  have  a ceremony  of  betrothal 
performed,  and  to  separate  the  next  moment  never  to  meet 
again  until  fortune,  if  ever  so  disposed,  should  smile  on  us. 

The  ceremony  was  accordingly  performed  by  a Mr.  Tay, 
and  immediately  afterwards  I went  on  board  a packet  for 
England,  determined,  if  it  were  possible,  to  succeed  in  a 


78 


Barrington’s  recollections. 


profession  which  held  out  a reward  so  essential  to  my 
happiness. 

I did  succeed  at  the  Bar  ; but,  alas  ! she  for  whose  sake 
my  toil  was  pleasure  had  ceased  to  exist.  I never  saw  her 
more  ! Her  only  sister  still  lives  in  Merrion  Square,  Dublin, 
and  in  her  has  centred  all  the  property  of  both  the  father 
and  uncle.  She  is  the  wife  of  one  of  my  warmest  friends,  a 
King’s  Counsel. 

I hasten  to  quit  a subject  to  me  so  distressing.  Some 
very  peculiar  circumstances  attended,  as  I learned,  the  death 
of  that  most  excellent  of  women,  but  a recital  of  these 
would  only  increase  the  impression  which  I fear  I have 
already  given  grounds  for,  that  I am  deeply  superstitious. 
However,  I have  not  concealed  so  important  an  incident 
of  my  life  hitherto  not  published,  and  I have  done. 


IRISH  BEAUTIES. 


79 


CHAPTER  X. 

IRISH  BEAUTIES. 

It  is  singular  enough,  but  at  the  same  time  true,  that 
female  beauty  has  of  late  years  kept  pace  in  improvement 
with  modern  accomplishments.  She  who  in  the  early  part 
of  my  life  would  have  been  accounted  a perfect  beauty, 
whose  touch  upon  a harpsichord  or  spinnet,  accompanied 
by  a simple  air  sung  with  what  they  then  called  “ judgment” 
(in  tune),  would  have  constituted  her  at  once  a Venus  and  a 
Syren,  would  now  be  passed  by  merely  as  “ a pretty  girl, 
but  such  a confounded  bore  with  her  music  ? ” In  fact, 
women  fifty  years  since,  and  much  later,  not  being,  generally 
speaking,  thrust  into  society  till  they  had  arrived  at  the  age 
of  maturity,  were  more  respected,  more  beloved,  and  more 
sedulously  attended  than  in  these  days,  when  the  men  seem 
to  have  usurped  the  ladies’  corsets,  to  affect  their  voices, 
practise  their  gait,  imitate  their  small  talk,  and  in  surtouts 
and  trousers  hustle  ladies  off  the  footpaths,  to  save  their 
own  dog-skins  from  humidity. 

This  degradation  of  both  sexes  has  arisen  from  various 
causes.  Beauty  is  apparently  become  less  rare,  accomplish- 
ments more  common,  dress  less  distinguished,  dignity  worse 
preserved,  and  decorum  less  attended  to  than  in  former 
times.  It  is  a great  mistake  in  women  not  to  recollect  their 
own  importance,  and  keep  up  that  just  medium  between 
reserve  and  familiarity  which  constitutes  the  best  criterion 
whereby  to  appreciate  the  manners  of  a gentlewoman.  But 
women  are  too  apt  to  run  into  extremes  in  everything,  and 
overlook  the  fact  that  neither  personal  beauty  nor  drawing- 
room display  are  calculated  to  form  permanent  attractions, 
even  to  the  most  adoring  lover.  The  breakfast-table  in  the 

boston  COLLEGE  library 

CHESTNUT  HILL,  Mass. 


8o 


Barrington’s  recollections. 


morning  and  fireside  in  the  evening  must  be  the  ultimate 
touchstones  of  connubial  comfort  ; and  this  is  a maxim 
which  any  woman  who  intends  to  marry  should  never  lose 
sight  of. 

To  such  lengths  did  respect  for  the  sex  extend,  and  so 
strong  was  the  impression  that  men  were  bound  to  protect 
it  even  from  accidental  offence,  that  I remember  if  any 
gentleman  presumed  to  pass  between  a lady  and  the  wall  in 
walking  the  streets  of  Dublin,  he  was  considered  as  offering 
a personal  affront  to  her  escort  ; and  if  the  parties  wore 
swords,  as  was  then  customary,  it  is  probable  the  first  saluta- 
tion to  the  offender  would  be  “ Draw,  sir  ! ” However, 
such  affairs  usually  ended  in  an  apology  to  the  lady  for 
inadvertence. 

But  if  a man  ventured  to  intrude  into  the  boxes  of  the 
theatre  in  his  surtout  or  boots,  or  with  his  hat  on,  it  was 
regarded  as  a general  insult  to  every  lady  present,  and  he 
had  little  chance  of  escaping  without  a shot  or  a thrust 
before  the  following  night.  Every  gentleman  then  wore  in 
the  evening  a sword,  a queue,  and  a three-cocked  hat — 
appointments  rather  too  fierce-looking  for  the  modern 
dandy  ! whilst  the  morning  dress  consisted  of  what  was 
then  called  a French  frock,  a waistcoat  bordered  with  lace, 
and  a couteau  de  chasse  with  a short,  curved  broad  blade,  the 
handle  of  green  ivory,  with  a lion’s  head  in  silver  or  gilt  at 
the  end,  and  a treble  chain  dangling  loose  from  its  mouth, 
terminating  at  an  ornamented  cross  or  guard  which  sur- 
mounted the  scabbard.  Such  was  the  Irish  costume  ; but 
although  either  the  male  or  female  attire  of  that  day  might 
now  appear  rather  grotesque,  yet  people  of  fashion  had  then 
the  exclusive  dress  and  air  of  such,  and  gentlewomen  ran  no 
risk  of  being  copied  in  garb  or  manner  by  their  pretty 
waiting-maids,  now  called  “ young  persons  ! ” 

The  Irish  court  at  that  period  was  kept  up  with  great 
state,  and  hence  the  parties  who  frequented  it  were  more 


IRISH  BEAUTIES. 


8l 


select.  I recollect  when  the  wives  and  daughters  of 
attorneys,  who  now  I believe  are  the  general  occupiers  of 
the  red  benches,  were  never  admitted  to  vice-regal 
drawing-rooms.  How  far  the  present  growing  system  of 
equality  in  appearance  amongst  different  ranks  will  even- 
tually benefit  or  injure  society  in  general,  is  for  casuists,  not 
for  me,  to  determine.  I must,  however,  take  occasion  to 
own  myself  an  admirer,  and,  whenever  it  is  proper,  a zealous 
contender  for  distinction  of  ranks  ; and  to  state  my  decided 
opinion  that  nothing  but  superior  talents,  learning,  military 
reputation,  or  some  other  quality  which  raises  men 
by  general  assent,  should  be  permitted  to  amalgamate 
society. 

It  is  an  observation  I have  always  made,  although  it  may 
be  perhaps  considered  a frivolous  one,  that  dress  has  a 
moral  effect  upon  the  conduct  of  mankind.  Let  any  gentle- 
man find  himself  with  dirty  boots,  old  surtout,  soiled  neck- 
cloth, and  a general  negligence  of  dress,  he  will  in  all 
probability  find  a corresponding  disposition  to  negligence 
of  address.  He  may,  en  deshabille , curse  and  swear,  and 
speak  roughly  and  think  roughly  ; but  put  the  same  man 
into  full  dress,  powder  him  well,  clap  a sword  by  his  side, 
and  give  him  an  evening  coat,  breeches,  and  silk  stockings, 
he  will  feel  himself  quite  another  person  ! To  use  the 
language  of  the  blackguard  would  then  be  out  of  character  ; 
he  will  talk  smoothly,  affect  politeness,  if  he  has  it  not, 
pique  himself  upon  good  manners,  and  respect  the  women  ; 
nor  will  the  spell  subside  until  returning  home  ; the  old  robe 
de  chambre , or  its  substitute  surtout,  with  other  slovenly 
appendages,  make  him  lose  again  his  brief  consciousness  of 
being  a gentleman  ! 

Some  women  mistake  the  very  nature  and  purposes  of 
dress  ; glaring  abroad,  they  are  slatterns  at  home.  The 
husband  detests  in  his  sposa  what  he  is  too  apt  to  practise 
himself ; he  rates  a dirty  wife,  she  retorts  upon  a ruffianly 

(D*  311) 


G 


82 


BARRINGTON’S  RECOLLECTIONS. 


husband,  and  each  of  them  detests  the  other  for  neglect 
which  neither  will  take  the  trouble  of  avoiding. 

Three  ladies,  about  the  period  of  my  return  from  London 
became  very  conspicuous  for  their  beauty,  though  extremely 
different  in  all  points  both  of  appearance  and  manners. 
They  still  live.  Two  of  them  I greatly  admired,  not  for 
beauty  alone,  but  for  an  address  the  most  captivating  ; and 
one  of  these,  especially,  for  the  kindest  heart  and  the 
soundest  sense,  when  she  gave  it  fair  play,  that  I have  ever 
met  with  amongst  females. 

In  admitting  my  great  preference  to  this  individual  lady, 
I may,  perhaps,  by  those  who  know  her,  be  accused  of 
partiality,  less  to  herself  than  to  a family  ; be  it  so  ! she  is 
the  wife  of  my  friend,  and  I esteem  her  for  his  sake  ; but  she 
is  also  an  excellent  woman,  and  I esteem  her  for  her  own. 

Another  of  the  parties  alluded  to,  Lady  M , is  a gentle- 

woman of  high  birth,  and  was  then,  though  not  quite  a 
beauty,  in  all  points  attractive.  She  passed  her  spring  in 
misfortune,  her  summer  in  misery,  her  autumn  without 
happiness  ! but  I hope  the  winter  of  her  days  is  spent 
amidst  every  comfort.  Of  the  third  lady  I have  not  yet 
spoken  ; though  far  inferior  to  both  the  former,  she  has 
succeeded  better  in  life  than  either  ; and,  beginning  the 
world  without  any  pretensions  beyond  mediocrity,  is  likely 
to  end  her  days  in  ease  and  more  than  ordinary  respect- 
ability. 

My  first  knowledge  of  Lady  M arose  from  a circum- 

stance which  was  to  me  of  singular  professional  advantage  ; 
and  as  it  forms  a curious  anecdote  respecting  myself,  I will 
proceed  to  relate  it. 

At  the  assizes  of  Wexford,  whilst  I was  but  young  at  the 

bar,  I received  a brief  in  a cause  of  Sir  R M , Bart., 

against  a Mr.  H . On  perusal,  I found  it  was  an  action 

brought  by  the  baronet  against  the  latter  gentleman  respect- 
ing his  lady,  and  that  I was  retained  as  advocate  for  the 


IRISH  BEAUTIES. 


83 

lady’s  honour.  It  was  my  “ first  appearance  ” in  that  town. 
But,  alas  ! I had  a senior  in  the  business,  and,  therefore,  was 
without  opportunity  of  displaying  my  abilities.  The  ill-fated 
Bagenal  Harvey*  was  that  senior  counsel,  and  he  had 
prepared  himself  to  make  some  exhibition  in  a cause  of  so 
much  and  such  universal  excitement.  I felt  dispirited,  and 
would  willingly  have  given  up  twenty  fees  in  order  to 
possess  this  opportunity. 

The  cause  proceeded  before  Judge  Kelly  ; the  evidence 
was  finished,  and  the  proper  time  for  the  defence  had  arrived  ; 
everything  as  to  the  lady  was  at  stake.  Bagenal  Harvey  had 
gone  out  to  take  fresh  air,  and  probably  to  read  over  some 
notes,  or  con  some  florid  sentences  and  quotations  with 
which  he  intended  to  interlard  his  elocution.  At  the 
moment  the  evidence  closed,  the  judge  desired  me  to 
proceed.  I replied  that  Mr.  Harvey,  my  senior,  would 
return  into  court  directly. 

Judge  Kelly,  who  was  my  friend,  and  clearly  saw  my  wish, 
said  he  would  not  delay  public  business  one  minute  for 
anybody  ; and  by  a sort  of  instinct,  or  rather  impulse — I 
cannot  indeed  exactly  say  what  it  was,  but  certainly  it  was 
totally  impromptu — I began  to  state  her  ladyship’s  case.  I 
always  had  words  enough  at  command  ; the  evidence 
also  afforded  sufficient  material  for  their  exercise  ; and  in 
fact,  being  roused  by  the  cause  into  a sort  of  knight-errantry, 
I felt  myself  completely  identified  with  it.  If  I should 
succeed,  it  would  greatly  serve  me.  I forgot  poor  Bagenal 
Harvey,  and  was  just  getting  into  the  marrow  and  pathos 
of  my  case,  when  the  crier  shouted  out,  “ Clear  the  way  for 
Counsellor  Harvey  ! ” Bagenal  came  in  puffing  and 
blowing,  and  struggling  through  the  crowd,  scarcely  able 
to  command  utterance.  I instantly  stopped,  and  begged  his 
pardon,  adding  that  the  judge  had  said  the  public  time 

* An  unfortunate  friend  of  mine  who  was  afterwards  hanged,  and  his 
head  stuck  over  the  door  of  the  same  Court  House. 


84 


Barrington’s  recollections. 


could  wait  for  nobody  ! “ So,”  continued  I,  “ let  me  just 

shew  you  where  I left  off ! ” turning  over  the  leaves  of  my 
brief ; “ there,  begin  there ; it  will  be  useless  to  repeat  what 
I have  already  said,  so  begin  there.”  A loud  laugh 
succeeded. 

Bagenal  became  irritated  as  much  as  he  was  susceptible 
of  being,  and  whispered  me  that  he  considered  it  as  a 
personal  insult ; whilst  old  Judge  Kelly  gravely  said,  “ Go 
on,  Mr.  Barrington,  go  on ; we  can  have  no  speeches  by 
dividends ; go  on,  sir  ! ” So  on  I went,  and  I believe, 
because  everybody  told  me  so,  that  my  impromptu  speech 
was  entirely  successful.  I discredited  the  witnesses  by 
ridicule,  destroyed  all  sympathy  with  the  husband,  and 
interested  everybody  for  the  wife.  In  short,  I got  the  judge 
and  jury  into  good  humour.  Yet,  I know  not  by  what 
means  I should  have  ensured  a verdict,  had  not  a certain 
point  of  law,  which  I believe  was  then  started  for  the  first 
time,  occurred  to  me,  and  which,  though  rational  itself, 
and  on  that  trial  recognised  by  the  judge,  has  since  been 
overruled  in  terms,  though  it  stands  in  substance — namely, 
if  a husband  cannot  truly  aver  that  he  has  sustained  mental 
injury  by  the  loss  of  that  comfort  arising  from  the  society  of 
a wife,  it  is  anomalous  to  say  he  has  any  claim  to  damages  ; 
and  this  averment  can  scarcely  be  made  where  the  parties 
have  been  separated  voluntarily  and  completely  for  years.* 

The  judge,  the  kindest-hearted  man  living,  chuckled  at 
this  new  point.  The  jury,  who  did  not  much  admire  the 
plaintiff,  were  quite  pleased  with  my  suggestion  ; and  after 
the  judge  had  given  his  charge,  in  a few  minutes,  to  the 
utter  discomfiture  of  the  baronet,  there  was  a verdict  against 

* This  is,  indeed,  altogether  a species  of  action  maintained  in  no 
country  but  England,  a money  country.  Why  not  transfer  the  offence 
to  the  criminal  side  of  the  courts  of  justice  ? All  the  rest  of  Europe 
ridicules  our  system.  The  idea  entertained  on  the  Continent  upon  such 
occasions  is  silence  or  death , if  not  the  most  lucrative,  certainly  the  most 
honourable  mode  of  procedure. 


IRISH  BEAUTIES. 


85 


him  ! His  lips  quivered,  he  stood  pale  and  trembling  with 
anger,  and  subsequently  quitted  the  town  with  the  utmost 
expedition. 

Some  time  afterwards  a reconciliation  took  place  between 
the  parties  so  far  that  her  ladyship  consented  to  live  with  him 
again — influenced  much,  I rather  think,  by  having  suffered 
great  inconvenience,  if  not  distress,  from  want  of  regularity 
in  the  receipt  of  her  separate  maintenance  of  £700  per 
annum.  I had  the  pleasure  of  meeting  her  frequently  at  the 
Lady  Lieutenant’s  parties. 

The  conclusion  of  the  renewed  intercourse  is  too  curious 

to  be  omitted.  Sir  R had  taken  a house  in  the  city  of 

Dublin,  and  it  was  thought  possible  that  he  and  his  wife 
might,  at  any  rate,  pass  some  time  under  the  same  roof  ; but 
fate  decided  otherwise. 

Sir  R was  literally  insane  on  all  political  subjects,  his 

imagination  being  occupied  night  and  day  with  nothing  but 
papists,  Jesuits,  and  rebels.  Once  in  the  dead  of  the  night 
his  lady  was  awakened  by  a sense  of  positive  suffocation, 

and  rousing  herself,  found  that  Sir  R was  in  the  very 

act  of  strangling  her  ! — he  had  grasped  her  by  the  throat 
with  all  his  might,  and  muttering  heavy  imprecations,  had 
nearly  succeeded  in  his  diabolical  attempt.  She  struggled, 
and  at  length  extricated  herself  from  his  grasp  ; upon  which 
he  roared  out,  making  a fresh  effort — “ You  infernal  papist 
rebel  ! you  United  Irishman  ! I’ll  never  part  from  you  alive 
if  you  don’t  come  quietly.” 

In  fact,  this  crazy  Orangeman  had  in  his  dream  fancied 
that  he  was  contesting  with  a rebel,  whom  he  had  better 

choke  than  suffer  to  escape,  and  poor  Lady  M was 

nearly  sacrificed  to  his  excess  of  loyalty.  In  her  robe  de 
chambre  and  slippers  she  contrived  to  get  out  of  the  house, 
and  never  more  ventured  to  return,  as  she  now  clearly  per- 
ceived that  even  her  personal  safety  could  not  be  calculated 
on  in  her  husband’s  society. 


86 


Barrington’s  recollections. 


I have  in  another  work  given  a full  character  of  Sir  R 

M , and  stated  my  opinion  of  his  worse  than  mischievous 

History  of  Ireland.  One  more  anecdote  of  him,  and  I have 
done. 

Whilst  he  was  High  Sheriff  for  the  County  of  Waterford, 
an  old  man  was  sentenced  to  be  whipped  at  the  cart’s  tail 
for  some  political  offence  ; when  the  executioner  not  being 
in  readiness,  the  High  Sheriff — a Baronet  and  Member  of 
Parliament — took  up  the  cat-o' -nine-tails,  ordered  the  cart  to 
move  on  slowly,  and  operated  himself  with  admirable  ex- 
pertness, but  much  greater  severity  than  the  hangman  would 
have  used  ! Thus  did  he  proceed  to  whip  the  old  man 
through  the  streets  of  the  city  ; and  when  the  extreme  point 
was  reached,  and  he  was  scarcely  able  to  raise  his  arm,  he 
publicly  regretted  he  had  not  a little  farther  to  go  ! 

Lady  M was,  in  her  own  right,  entitled  to  a fortune 

of  £15,000,  to  be  paid  on  her  marriage.  Her  father,  a 
gentleman  of  rank  and  estate,  had  by  some  mismanagement 

become  extremely  embarrassed.  Sir  R M , a man 

of  family,  but  whose  fortune  was  not  large,  cast  his  eye  on 
her  beauty,  not  totally  overlooking  her  property.  His  taste 
was  indisputably  good,  the  lady  being  at  that  period  every- 
thing that  could  be  desired  ! She  possessed  an  ardent  mind, 
great  constitutional  gaiety,  and  a sensitive  heart ; to  which 
were  added  a most  engaging  figure  and  a lovely  and  ex- 
pressive countenance.  Her  father  she  loved  dearly,  and 
for  his  unhappy  circumstances,  therefore,  her  heart  bled  ; 

but  Sir  R M could  make  no  impression  upon  it. 

On  the  contrary,  he  excited  her  aversion.  Thus  her  affec- 
tions being  unattainable,  the  baronet  resolved,  if  possible,  to 
purchase  her  hand,  leaving  her  heart  to  some  future  oppor- 
tunity ! Hence  commences  the  affecting  narrative  of  her 
ladyship’s  wrongs  and  misfortunes,  related  to  me  by  herself 
in  broken  fragments  and  at  several  times. 

“ I was  not  aware,”  said  she,  “ what  caused  my  dear 


IRISH  BEAUTIES. 


87 


father’s  obvious  unhappiness,  and  often  was  I surprised 
at  the  pertinacity  with  which  he  pressed  the  baronet  upon 
my  consideration.  I rejected  him  over  and  over  again  ; still 
his  suit  was  renewed,  still  my  father  appeared  more  anxious 
on  his  behalf,  whilst  my  mother  seconded  their  wishes.  My 

aversion  increased  ; yet  Sir  R M ’s  assiduities  were 

redoubled  with  his  repulses  ; and  at  length  I contemplated 
the  leaving  my  father’s  house  if  I were  longer  persecuted 
by  these  addresses. 

“ Though  young,  I knew  the  failing  of  my  own  character, 
which  possessed  not  sufficient  resolution  to  oppose  its  con- 
stitutional tendencies.  Nature  had  formed  me  for  all  the 
pleasures  and  the  pains  which  are  alike  inseparable  from 
sensibility.  I found  a glow  in  every  thought — an  en- 
thusiasm in  every  action.  My  feelings  were  always  in 
earnest . I could  love  to  excess  and  hate  to  rancour  ! but 

I could  do  neither  with  mediocrity.  I could  be  the  best  or 
the  worst  of  wives.  I could  endure  anything  with  a man 
I loved,  but  could  not  sit  upon  a throne  with  one  whom  I 
might  detest. 

“ At  length  I discovered  the  whole  of  my  father’s  more 
than  pressing  embarrassments  ; and  understood  that  Sir 

R M had  agreed  to  give  up  to  him  a considerable 

portion  of  my  fortune  if  our  marriage  was  effected.  This 
shock  to  such  a disposition  as  mine  was  cruel,  and  the 
dilemma  was  distracting,  since  it  involved  my  father’s 
ruin — or  my  own  ! 

“ Often  as  we  sat  at  our  family  repasts,  have  I perceived 
that  dear  parent  lay  down  the  fork  he  was  conveying  to  his 
lips,  and  turn  away  to  conceal  the  agitation  of  mind  which 
might  have  betrayed  to  us  his  distresses. 

“ Gradually  I found  that  filial  affection  was  taking  the 
strongest  hold  of  me.  I thought  I could  endure  unhappi- 
ness myself,  but  I could  not  bear  to  see  my  father  miserable. 

I weighed  the  consequences,  and  reasoned  so  far  as  I pos- 


88 


Barrington’s  recollections. 


sessed  the  faculty  of  reasoning.  I saw  his  ruin  or  my 
own  was  inevitable  ! 

“ The  struggle  was  indeed  sharp,  it  was  long,  it  was 
very  painful  ; but  at  length  filial  piety  prevailed  over 
self,  and  I determined  upon  my  own  sacrifice.  I com- 
municated to  my  father  my  decision  to  admit  the  addresses 

of  Sir  R M ; but  at  the  same  moment  I felt  an 

indescribable  change  of  character  commence,  which  from 
that  sad  period  has  more  or  less  affected  every  action  of  my 
life.  I felt  a sort  of  harsh  sensation  arise  within  my  mind, 
and  operate  upon  my  temper,  to  which  they  had  previously 
been  strangers.  My  spirits  flagged,  my  pursuits  grew 
insipid,  and  I perceived  that  the  ice  of  indifference  was 
chilling  all  the  sensibility  of  my  nature. 

“ From  the  moment  of  my  assent,  my  father’s  disposition 
seemed  to  have  undergone  almost  as  radical  a change  as  my 
own.  He  became  once  more  cheerful,  and  I had  at  least 
the  gratification  of  reflecting  that,  if  I were  myself  lost, 
I had  saved  a parent  ! But  I must  remark  that  it  was  not 
so  as  to  my  mother — who,  indeed,  had  never  been  kind 
to  me. 

“ In  due  time  the  settlements  were  prepared,  and  my 
fortune,  I learn,  secretly  divided.  The  ceremony  was  about 

to  be  performed,  and  Sir  R M at  that  very  hour 

appeared  to  me  to  be  the  most  disagreeable  of  mankind. 
There  was  a sort  of  uncouth  civility — an  abrupt,  fiery, 
coarse  expression,  even  in  his  most  conciliating  manners, 
which  seemed  to  set  all  feelings  of  respect  or  cordiality  at 
defiance.  As  to  love,  he  was  not  susceptible  of  the  passion, 
whilst  I was  created  to  enjoy  its  tenderest  blessings.  He  was 
half-mad  by  nature  ; I had  become  so  from  misery  ! and  in 
this  state  of  mind  we  met  to  be  united  at  the  altar  ! I was 
determined,  however,  that  he  should  learn  by  anticipation 

what  he  had  to  expect  from  me  as  a wife.  ‘ Sir  R 

M ,’  said  I to  him,  ‘ I am  resolved  to  give  you  the 


IRISH  BEAUTIES. 


89 


last  proof  you  will  ever  receive  of  my  candour.  I accept 
you,  not  only  as  a husband  whom  I never  can  love,  and 
never  will  obey,  but  whom  I absolutely  detest  ! — now  marry 
me  at  your  peril,  and  take  the  consequences  ! ’ He  laughed 
convulsively,  took  me  by  the  hand,  and  having  led  me  into 
the  next  room,  that  ceremony  was  performed  to  which  I 
should  have  thought  a sentence  of  death  preferable.  The 
moment  we  were  united  I retired  to  my  chamber,  where 
tears,  flowing  in  torrents,  cooled  my  heated  feelings.  My 
purpose  in  marrying  was  effected  ; I therefore  determined 
that,  if  possible,  I never  would  live  an  hour  in  his  society  ; 
and  it  was  two  months  before  my  ill-fated  stars  compelled 
me  to  become  the  actual  wife  of  the  most  unfeeling  and 
abominable  of  fanatics. 

“ Our  residence  together,  of  course,  was  short,  and  at 
twenty-one  I was  thrown  upon  the  world  to  avoid  my 
husband's  society.  Being  possessed  of  sufficient  means,  I 
travelled  ; and  for  the  fourteen  years  of  our  separation  my 
whole  time  was  an  unnatural  and  continued  strife  between 
passion  and  propriety.  On  a late  occasion  you  were  my 
counsel,  and  from  you  nothing  has  been  concealed.  You 
did  me  more  than  justice — you  have  defeated  him,  and 
preserved  me!” 

I have  not  seen  her  ladyship  for  these  many  years,  but 
never  did  I meet  with  one  whom  I conceived  to  be  more 
completely  thrown  away,  or  whose  natural  disposition 
seemed  more  calculated  to  lead  to  her  own  happiness  and 
to  the  happiness  of  those  within  her  sphere  of  influence. 


9o 


Barrington’s  recollections 


CHAPTER  XI. 

PATRICIANS  AND  PLEBEIANS. 

I will  now  proceed  to  lay  before  the  reader  a brief  but 
more  general  sketch  of  the  state  of  Irish  society  at  the 
period  of  my  youth,  reminding  him  of  the  principle  which  I 
have  before  assumed — namely,  that  of  considering  anecdotes, 
bon-mots,  and  such  like,  valuable  only  as  they  tend  to 
exemplify  interesting  facts,  relative  to  history  or  manners  ; 
many  such  I have  inserted  in  these  fragments  ; and  as  I 
have  been  careful  throughout  to  avoid  mere  inventions,  my 
reader  need  not  by  any  means  reserve  their  perusal  for  the 
study  of  his  travelling  carriage. 

Miss  Edgeworth,  in  her  admirable  sketch  of  Castle  Rack- 
rent , gives  a faithful  picture  of  the  Irish  character  under  the 
circumstances  which  she  has  selected  ; and  the  account  that 
I am  about  to  give  may  serve  as  a kind  of  supplement  to 
that  little  work,  as  well  as  an  elucidation  of  the  habits  and 
manners  of  Irish  country  society  about  the  period  Miss 
Edgeworth  alludes  to,  and  somewhat  later. 

In  those  days,  then,  the  common  people  ideally  separated 
the  gentry  of  the  country  into  three  classes,  and  treated  each 
class  according  to  the  relative  degree  of  respect  to  which 
they  considered  it  was  entitled. 

They  generally  divided  them  thus  : — 

1.  Half-mounted  gentlemen. 

2.  Gentlemen  every  inch  of  them . 

3.  Gentlemen  to  the  backbone . 

The  first-named  class  formed  the  only  species  of  indepen- 
dent yeomanry  then  existing  in  Ireland.  They  were  the 
descendants  of  the  small  grantees  of  Queen  Elizabeth, 
Cromwell,  and  King  William  ; possessed  about  200  acres  of 


PATRICIANS  AND  PLEBEIANS. 


91 


land  each,  in  fee-farm,  from  the  Crown  ; and  were  occa- 
sionally admitted  into  the  society  of  gentlemen,  particularly 
hunters,  living  at  other  times  amongst  each  other  with  an 
intermixture  of  their  own  servants,  with  whom  they  were 
always  on  terms  of  intimacy.  They  generally  had  good 
clever  horses,  which  could  leap  over  anything,  but  had  never 
felt  the  trimming-scissors  or  currycomb.  The  riders  com- 
monly wore  buckskin  breeches,  and  boots  well  greased — 
blacking  was  never  used  in  the  country — and  carried  large 
thong  whips,  heavily  loaded  with  lead  at  the  butt-end,  so 
that  they  were  always  prepared  either  to  horsewhip  a man  or 
knock  his  brains  out,  as  circumstances  might  dictate. 
These  half-mounted  gentlemen  exercised  the  hereditary 
authority  of  keeping  the  ground  clear  at  horse-races, 
hurlings,  and  all  public  meetings,  as  the  soldiers  keep 
the  lines  at  a review.  Their  business  was  to  ride  round 
the  inside  of  the  ground,  which  they  generally  did  with 
becoming  spirit,  trampling  over  some,  knocking  down  others, 
and  slashing  everybody  who  encroached  on  the  proper  limits. 
Bones  being  but  very  seldom  broken,  and  skulls  still  seldomer 
fractured,  everybody  approved  of  their  exertions,  because 
all  the  bystanders  gained  therefrom  a full  view  of  the 
sport  which  was  going  forward.  A shout  of  merriment 
was  always  set  up  when  a half-mounted  gentleman  knocked 
down  an  interloper  ; and  some  of  the  poets  present,  if 
they  had  an  opportunity,  roared  out  their  verses*  by  way 
of  a song  to  encourage  the  gentlemen. 

The  second  class,  or  gentlemen  every  inch  of  them , were 

* I recollect  an  example  of  those  good-humoured  madrigals.  A poet 
called  Daniel  Bran  sang  it  aloud  as  he  himself  lay  sprawling  on  the 
grass,  after  having  been  knocked  down  and  ridden  over  by  old  Squire 
Flood,  who  shewed  no  mercy  in  the  “ execution  of  his  duty.” 

“ There  was  Despard  so  brave, 

That  son  of  the  wave, 

And  Tom  Conway,  the  pride  of  the  bower  ; 

But  noble  Squire  Flood 
Swore,  G — d d — n his  blood  ! 

But  he'd  drown  them  all  in  the  Delower.” 


92 


Barrington’s  recollections. 


of  excellent  old  families,  whose  finances  were  not  in  so  good 
order  as  they  might  have  been,  but  who  were  popular 
amongst  all  ranks.  They  were  far  above  the  first  degree, 
somewhat  inferior  to  the  third,  but  had  great  influence, 
were  much  beloved,  and  carried  more  sway  at  popular 
elections  and  general  county  meetings  than  the  other  two 
classes  put  together. 

The  third  class,  or  gentlemen  to  the  backbone , were  of  the 
oldest  families  and  settlers,  universally  respected,  and 
idolised  by  the  peasantry,  although  they  also  were  generally 
a little  out  at  elbows.  Their  word  was  law  ; their  nod  would 
have  immediately  collected  an  army  of  cottagers,  or  colliers, 
or  whatever  the  population  was  composed  of.  Men, 
women,  and  children  were  always  ready  and  willing  to 
execute  anything  “ the  squire  ” required,  without  the 
slightest  consideration  as  to  either  its  danger  or  propriety. 

A curious  circumstance,  perhaps,  rendered  my  family 
peculiarly  popular.  The  common  people  had  conceived 
the  notion  that  the  lord  of  Cullenaghmore  had  a right  to 
save  a man’s  life  every  summer  assizes  at  Maryborough  ; 
and  it  did  frequently  so  happen,  within  my  recollection, 
that  my  father’s  intercession  in  favour  of  some  poor  deluded 
creatures  (when  the  White  Boy  system  was  in  activity) 
was  kindly  attended  to  by  the  Government ; and  certainly, 
besides  this  number,  many  others  of  his  tenants  owred  their 
lives  to  similar  interference.  But  it  was  wise  in  the  Govern- 
ment to  accede  to  such  representations,  since  their  concession 
never  failed  to  create  such  an  influence  in  my  father’s 
person  over  the  tenantry  that  he  was  enabled  to  preserve 
them  in  perfect  tranquillity,  whilst  those  surrounding 
were  in  a constant  state  of  insubordination  to  all  law 
whatever. 

I recollect  a Mr.  Tom  Flinter,  of  Timahoe,  one  of  the 
first-class  gentlemen,  who  had  speculated  in  cows  and 
sheep,  and  everything  he  could  buy  up,  till  his  establish- 


PATRICIANS  AND  PLEBEIANS. 


9? 


ment  was  reduced  to  one  blunt  faithful  fellow,  Dick 
Henesey,  who  stuck  to  him  throughout  all  his  vicissitudes. 
Flinter  had  once  on  a time  got  a trifle  of  money,  which  was 
burning  in  his  greasy  pocket,  and  he  wanted  to  expend  it 
at  a neighbouring  fair  ! where  his  whole  history,  as  well  as 
the  history  of  every  man  of  his  half-mounted  contemporaries, 
was  told  in  a few  verses  by  a fellow  called  Ned,  the  dog- 
stealer,  but  who  was  also  a great  poet , and  resided  in  the 
neighbourhood.  They  were  considered  as  a standing  joke 
for  many  years  in  that  part  of  the  country,  and  ran  as  follows  : 


Dialogue  between  Tom  Funter  and  his  Man. 


Tom  Flinter. 
Dick  Henesey. 
Tom  Flinter. 


Dick  Henesey. 


Tom  Flinter. 


Dick  ! said  he. 

What  ? said  he. 

Fetch  me  my  hat,  says  he  ; 

For  I will  go,  says  he, 

To  Timahoe,  says  he, 

To  buy  the  fair,  says  he, 

And  all  that’s  there,  says  he. 

Arrah  ! pay  what  you  owe  ! said  he  ; 
And  then  you  may  go,  says  he, 

To  Timahoe,  says  he, 

To  buy  the  fair,  says  he, 

And  all  that’s  there,  says  he. 

Well  ! by  this  and  by  that,  said  he  ; 
Dick  ! hang  up  my  hat  ! says  he. 


In  travelling  through  Ireland  a stranger  is  very  frequently 
puzzled  by  the  singular  ways,  and  especially  by  the  idiomatic 
equivocation,  characteristic  of  every  Irish  peasant.  Some 
years  back,  more  particularly,  these  men  were  certainly 
originals — quite  unlike  any  other  people  whatever.  Many  an 
hour  of  curious  entertainment  has  been  afforded  me  by  their 
eccentricities  ; yet  though  always  fond  of  prying  into 
the  remote  sources  of  these  national  peculiarities,  I must 
frankly  confess  that,  with  all  my  pains,  I never  was  able  to 
develop  half  of  them,  except  by  one  sweeping  observation — - 
namely,  that  the  brains  and  tongues  of  the  Irish  are  some- 
how differently  formed  or  furnished  from  those  of  other 
people. 

One  general  hint  which  I beg  to  impress  upon  all  travellers 


94 


Barrington’s  recollections. 


in  Hibernia  is  the  following  : that  if  they  shew  a disposition 
towards  kindness,  together  with  a moderate  familiarity,  and 
affect  to  be  inquisitive,  whether  so  or  not,  the  Irish  peasant 
will  outdo  them  tenfold  in  every  one  of  these  dispositions. 
But  if  a man  is  haughty  and  overbearing,  he  had  better  take 
care  of  himself. 

I have  often  heard  it  remarked  and  complained  of  by 
travellers  and  strangers,  that  they  never  could  get  a true 
answer  from  any  Irish  peasant  as  to  distances  when  on  a 
journey.  For  many  years  I myself  thought  it  most  unac- 
countable. If  you  meet  a peasant  on  your  journey  and  ask 
him  how  far,  for  instance,  to  Ballinrobe  ? he  will  probably 
say  it  is  “ three  short  miles.”  You  travel  on,  and  are 
informed  by  the  next  peasant  you  meet  that  it  is  “ five  long 
miles.”  On  you  go,  and  the  next  will  tell  “ your  honour  ” 
it  is  “ four  miles,  or  about  that  same.”  The  fourth  will 
swear  “ if  your  honour  stops  at  three  miles  you’ll  never  get 
there  ! ” But  on  pointing  to  a town  just  before  you,  and 
inquiring  what  place  that  is,  he  replies  : 

“ Oh  ! plaze  your  honour,  that’s  Ballinrobe,  sure  enough!” 
“ Why,  you  said  it  was  more  than  three  miles  off ! ” 

“ Oh,  yes  ! to  be  sure  and  sartain,  that’s  from  my  own 
cabin,  plaze  your  honour.  We’re  no  scholards  in  this 
country.  Arrah  ! how  can  we  tell  any  distance,  plaze  your 
honour,  but  from  our  own  little  cabins  ? Nobody  but  the 
schoolmaster  knows  that,  plaze  your  honour.” 

Thus  is  the  mystery  unravelled.  When  you  ask  any 
peasant  the  distance  of  the  place  you  require,  he  never  com- 
putes it  from  where  you  then  are,  but  from  his  own  cabin  ! 
so  that  if  you  asked  twenty,  in  all  probability  you  would 
have  as  many  different  answers,  and  not  one  of  them  correct. 
But  it  is  to  be  observed  that  frequently  you  can  get  no  reply 
at  all  unless  you  understand  Irish. 

In  parts  of  Kerry  and  Mayo,  however,  I have  met  with 
peasants  who  speak  Latin  not  badly.  On  the  election  of 


PATRICIANS  AND  PLEBEIANS. 


95 


Sir  John  Brown  for  the  County  of  Mayo,  Counsellor  Thomas 
Moore  and  I went  down  as  his  counsel.  The  weather  was 
desperately  severe.  At  a solitary  inn,  where  we  were  obliged 
to  stop  for  horses,  we  requested  dinner,  upon  which  the 
waiter  laid  a cloth  that  certainly  exhibited  every  species  of 
dirt  ever  invented.  We  called,  and,  remonstrating  with  him, 
ordered  a clean  cloth.  He  was  a low,  fat  fellow,  with  a 
countenance  perfectly  immovable,  and  seeming  to  have 
scarcely  a single  muscle  in  it.  He  nodded,  and  on  our 
return  to  the  room,  which  we  had  q^sitted  during  the  interval, 
we  found,  instead  of  a clean  cloth,  that  he  had  only  folded 
up  the  filthy  one  into  the  thickness  of  a cushion.  We  now 
scolded  away  in  good  earnest.  He  looked  at  us  with  the 
greatest  sangfroid , and  said  sententiously,  “ Nemo  me  impune 
lacessit .” 

He  kept  his  word  ; when  we  had  proceeded  about  four 
miles  in  deep  snow,  and  through  a desperate  night,  on  a 
bleak  road,  one  of  the  wheels  came  off  the  carriage,  and 
down  we  went  ! We  were  at  least  two  miles  from  any  house. 
The  driver  cursed  in  Irish  Michael  the  waiter,  who,  he 
said,  had  put  a new  wheel  upon  the  carriage,  which  had 
turned  out  to  be  an  old  one,  and  had  broken  to  pieces. 

We  had  to  march  through  the  snow  to  a wretched  cottage, 
and  sit  up  all  night  to  get  a genuine  new  wheel  ready  for  the 
morning. 

The  Irish  peasant  also  never  answers  any  question 
directly  ; in  some  districts,  if  you  ask  him  where  such  a 
gentleman’s  house  is,  he  will  point  and  reply,  “ Does  your 
honour  see  that  large  house  there  all  amongst  the  trees,  with 
a green  field  before  it  ? ” You  answer,  “ Yes.”  “ Well  ” 
says  he,  “ plaze  your  honour,  that’s  not  it.  But  do  you  see 
the  big  brick  house  with  the  cowhouses  by  the  side  of  that 
same,  and  a pond  of  water  ? ” “ Yes.” 

“ Well,  plaze  your  honour,  that's  not  it.  But,  if  you 
plaze,  look  quite  to  the  right  of  that  same  house,  and  you’ll 


96 


Barrington's  recollections. 


see  the  top  of  a castle  amongst  the  trees  there,  with  a road 
going  down  to  it  betune  the  bushes.” 

“ Yes.” 

“ Well,  plaze  your  honour,  that's  not  it  neither  ; but  if 
your  honour  will  come  down  this  bit  of  a road  a couple  of 
miles  I'll  shew  it  you  sure  enough — and  if  your  honour's  in 
a hurry  I can  run  on  hot  foot*  and  tell  the  squire  your 
honour’s  galloping  after  me.  Ah  ! who  shall  I tell  the  squire, 
plaze  your  honour,  is  coming  to  see  him  ? He’s  my  own 
landlord,  God  save  his  honour  day  and  night ! ” 

* A figurative  expression  for  “ with  all  possible  speed  ” — used  by  the 
Irish  peasants  ; by  taking  short  cuts,  and  fairly  hopping  along,  a young 
peasant  would  beat  any  good  traveller. 


IRISH  INNS. 


97 


CHAPTER  XII. 

IRISH  INNS. 

An  Irish  inn  has  been  an  eternal  subject  of  ridicule  to  every 
writer  upon  the  habits  and  appearances  of  my  native 
country.  It  is  true  that,  in  the  early  period  of  my  life,  most 
of  the  inns  in  Ireland  were  nearly  of  the  same  quality — a 
composition  of  slovenliness,  bad  meat,  worse  cooking,  and 
few  vegetables,  save  the  royal  Irish  potato  ; but  plenty  of  fine 
eggs,  smoked  bacon,  often  excellent  chickens,  and  occasion- 
ally the  hen,  as  soon  as  she  had  done  hatching  them,  if  you 
could  chew  her.  They  generally  had  capital  claret,  and 
plenty  of  civility  in  all  its  ramifications. 

The  poor  people  did  their  best  to  entertain  their  guests, 
but  did  not  understand  their  trade  ; and  even  had  it  been 
otherwise,  they  had  neither  furniture,  nor  money,  nor  credit, 
nor  cattle,  nor  customers  enough  to  keep  things  going  well 
together.  There  were  then  no  post-horses  nor  carriages ; 
consequently  very  little  travelling  in  Ireland  ; and  if  there 
had  been,  the  ruts  and  holes  would  have  rendered  thirty 
miles  a day  a good  journey.  Yet  I verily  believe,  on  the 
whole,  that  the  people  in  general  were  happier,  at  least  they 
appeared  vastly  more  contented,  that  at  present.  I certainly 
never  met  with  so  bad  a thing  in  Ireland  as  the  “ Red  Cow  ” 
in  John  Bull ; for  whatever  might  have  been  the  quality, 
there  was  plenty  of  something  or  other  always  to  be  had  at 
the  inns  to  assuage  hunger  and  thirst. 

The  best  description  I ever  recollect  to  have  heard  of 
an  Irish  inn,  its  incidents  and  appurtenances,  was  a sort  of 
medley  sung  and  spoken  by  the  present  Sir  Charles  Vernon, 
when  he  had  some  place  in  the  Lord  Lieutenant's  establish- 
ment at  Dublin  Castle  ; it  was  delivered  by  him  to  amuse 

(D311) 


H 


98 


Barrington’s  recollections. 


the  company  after  supper,  and  was  an  excellent  piece  of 
mimicry.  He  took  off  ducks,  geese,  pigs,  chickens,  the 
cook  and  the  landlady,  the  guests,  etc.,  to  the  greatest 
possible  perfection . 

One  anecdote  respecting  an  Irish  inn  may,  with  modifica- 
tions, give  some  idea  of  others  at  that  period.  A Mrs. 
Moll  Harding  kept  the  natest  inn  in  Ballyroan,  close  to  my 
father’s  house.  I recollect  to  have  heard  a passenger,  they 
are  very  scarce  there,  telling  her  “ that  his  sheets  had  not 
been  aired.”  With  great  civility  Moll  Harding  begged  his 
honour’s  pardon,  and  said,  “ they  certainly  were  and  must 
have  been  well  aired,  for  there  was  not  a gentleman  came  to 
the  house  the  last  fortnight  that  had  not  slept  in  them  ! ” 

Another  incident  which  occurred  in  an  Irish  inn  is,  for 
very  good  reasons,  much  more  firmly  impressed  on  my  recol- 
lection, and  may  give  a hint  worth  having  to  some  curious 
travellers  in  their  peregrinations  to  Kerry,  Killarney,  etc. 

The  late  Earl  Farnham  had  a most  beautiful  demesne  at 
a village  called  Newtown  Barry,  County  Wexford.  It  is  a 
choice  spot,  and  his  lordship  resided  in  a very  small  house 
in  the  village.  He  was  always  so  obliging  as  to  make  me 
dine  with  him  on  my  circuit  journey,  and  I slept  at  the  little 
inn,  in  those  days  a very  poor  one  indeed. 

The  day  of  my  arrival  was,  on  one  occasion,  wet,  and  a 
very  large  assemblage  of  barristers  were  necessitated  to  put 
up  with  any  accommodation  they  could  get.  I was  sure  of 
a good  dinner,  but  every  bed  was  engaged.  I dined  with 

Lord  F , took  my  wine  merrily,  and  adjourned  to  the 

inn,  determined  to  sit  up  all  night  at  the  kitchen  fire.  I 
found  every  one  of  my  brethren  in  bed,  the  maid-servant  full 
of  good  liquor,  and  the  man  and  woman  of  the  house  quite 
as  joyously  provided  for.  The  lady  declared  she  could  not 
think  of  permitting  my  honour  to  sit  up,  and  if  I would 
accept  their  little  snug  cupboard-bed  by  the  fireside  I 
should  be  warm  and  comfortable.  This  arrangement  I 


IRISH  INNS. 


99 


thought  a most  agreeable  one  ; the  bed  was  let  down  from 
the  niche,  into  which  it  had  been  folded  up,  and  in  a few 
minutes  I was  in  a comfortable  slumber. 

My  first  sensation  in  the  morning  was,  however,  one  which 
it  is  not  in  my  power  to  describe  now,  because  I could  not 
do  so  five  minutes  after  it  was  over  ; suffice  it  to  say,  I found 
myself  in  a state  of  suffocation,  with  my  head  down  and  my 
feet  upwards  ! I had  neither  time  nor  power  for  reflection  ; 
I attempted  to  cry  out,  but  that  was  impossible  ; the 
agonies  of  death,  I supposed,  were  coming  on  me,  and  some 
convulsive  effort  gave  me  a supernatural  strength  that  pro- 
bably saved  me  from  a most  inglorious  and  whimsical 
departure.  On  a sudden  I felt  my  position  change,  and 
with  a crash  sounding  to  me  like  thunder,  down  the  bed  and 
I came  upon  the  floor.  I then  felt  that  I had  the  power  of 
a little  articulation,  and  cried  out  “ murder  ! ” with  as  much 
vehemence  as  I was  able.  The  man,  woman,  and  maid,  by 
this  time  all  sober,  came  running  into  the  room  together. 
The  woman  joined  me  in  crying  out  murder  ; the  maid  alone 
knew  the  cause  of  my  disaster,  and  ran  as  fast  as  she  could 
for  the  apothecary  to  bleed  me.  I had,  however,  recovered 
after  large  draughts  of  cold  water,  and  obtained  sense 
enough  to  guess  at  my  situation. 

The  maid  having  being  drunk  when  I went  to  bed,  on 
awakening  just  at  break  of  day  to  begin  to  set  all  matters  to 
rights,  and  perceiving  her  master  and  mistress  already  up, 
had  totally  forgotten  the  counsellor,  and  having  stronger 
arms  of  her  own  than  any  barrister  of  the  home  circuit,  in 
order  to  clear  the  kitchen,  had  hoisted  up  the  bed  into  its 
proper  niche,  and  turned  the  button  at  the  top  that  kept  it 
in  its  place  ; in  consequence  of  which,  down  went  my  head 
and  up  went  my  heels  ! and  as  air  is  an  article  indispensably 
necessary  to  existence,  death  would  very  soon  have  ended 
the  argument,  had  not  my  violent  struggles  caused  the 
button  to  give  way,  and  so  brought  me  once  more  out  of  the 


IOO 


Barrington’s  recollections. 


position  of  the  antipodes.  The  poor  woman  was  as  much 
alarmed  as  I was  ! 

I felt  no  inconvenience  afterwards.  But  what  has 
happened  once  may  chance  to  occur  again  ; and  I only 
wonder  that  the  same  accident  does  not  frequently  take 
place  among  this  kind  of  people  and  of  beds. 


FATAL  DUEL  OF  MY  BROTHER. 


IOI 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

FATAL  DUEL  OF  MY  BROTHER. 

As  the  circumstances  attending  the  death  of  my  younger 
brother,  William  Barrington,  by  the  hand  of  the  celebrated 
General  Gillespie,  whom  Government  has  honoured  with  a 
monument  in  Westminster  Abbey,  have  been  variously 
detailed,  seldom,  indeed,  twice  the  same  way,  I think  it 
right  to  take  this  opportunity  of  stating  the  facts  of  that 
most  melancholy  transaction.  I will  do  so  as  concisely  as 
may  be,  and  as  dispassionately  as  the  slaughter  of  a beloved 
brother  will  admit  of. 

William  Barrington  had  passed  his  twentieth  year,  and 
had  intended  without  delay  to  embrace  the  military  profes- 
sion. He  was  active,  lively,  full  of  spirit  and  of  animal 
courage  ; his  predominant  traits  were  excessive  good  nature 
and  a most  zealous  attachment  to  the  honour  and  individuals 
of  his  family. 

Gillespie,  then  captain  in  a cavalry  regiment,  had  shortly 
before  the  period  in  question  married  a Miss  Taylor,  an 
intimate  friend  of  ours,  and  was  quartered  in  Athy,  where 
my  mother  resided. 

A very  close  and  daily  intercourse  sprang  up  between  the 
families.  After  dinner  one  day  at  Gillespie’s  house,  when 
every  gentleman  had  taken  more  wine  than  was  prudent,  a 
dispute  arose  between  my  brother  and  a Mr.  McKenzie, 
lieutenant  in  an  infantry  regiment  quartered  at  the  same 
place.  This  dispute  never  should  have  been  suffered  to 
arise,  and,  as  it  was  totally  private,  should  at  least  never  have 
proceeded  further.  But  no  attempt  was  made  either  to 
reconcile  or  check  it  on  the  part  of  Captain  Gillespie, 
although  the  thing  occurred  at  his  own  table. 


102 


Barrington’s  recollections. 


Gillespie  was  a very  handsome  person,  but  it  was  not  that 
species  of  soldier-like  and  manly  beauty  which  bespeaks  the 
union  of  courage  and  generosity.  He  had  a fair  and  smooth 
countenance,  wherein  impetuosity  appeared  to  be  the  pre- 
vailing feature.  His,  however,  was  not  the  rapid  flow  of 
transitory  anger,  which,  rushing  ingenuously  from  the  heart, 
is  instantly  suppressed  by  reason  and  repentance.  I admire 
that  temper  ; it  never  inhabits  the  same  mind  with  treachery 
or  malice.  On  the  contrary,  a livid  paleness  overspread  the 
countenance  of  Gillespie  upon  the  slightest  ruffle  of  his 
humour  ; the  vulgar  call  such  “ white-livered  persons  ” ; 
they  are  no  favourites  with  the  world  in  general,  and  I have 
never,  throughout  the  course  of  a long  life,  observed  one 
man  so  constituted  possessing  a list  of  virtues. 

I never  could  bear  Gillespie  ! I had  an  instinctive  dislike 
to  him,  which  I strove  in  vain  to  conquer.  I always  con- 
sidered him  to  be  a dangerous  man — an  impetuous,  unsafe 
companion,  capable  of  anything  in  his  anger.  I know  I 
ought  not  to  speak  with  prejudice  ; yet,  alas  ! if  I do,  who 
can  blame  me  ? 

A cenotaph,  voted  by  the  British  Parliament,  has  raised 
his  fame  ; but  it  is  the  fame  of  a sabreur , erected  on  piles  of 
slaughter,  and  cemented  by  the  blood  of  Indians.  No  tale 
of  social  virtues  appears  to  enrich  the  cornice  of  his  monu- 
ment. I wish  there  had  ! it  would,  at  any  rate,  have 
indicated  repentance. 

To  return  to  my  story.  Midway  between  Athy  and 
Carlow  was  agreed  on  for  a meeting.  I resided  in  Dublin, 
and  was  ignorant  of  the  transaction  till  too  late  ! A crowd, 
as  usual,  attended  the  combat  ; several  gentlemen,  and  some 
relatives  of  mine,  were,  I regret  to  say,  present.  In  a small 
verdant  field,  on  the  bank  of  the  Barrow,  my  brother  and 
M‘Kenzie  were  placed.  Gillespie,  who  had  been  considered 
as  the  friend  and  intimate  of  my  family,  volunteered  as  second 
to  M‘  Kenzie,  a comparative  stranger,  who  was  in  no  way 


FATAL  DUEL  OF  MY  BROTHER.  IO3 

adverse  to  an  amicable  arrangement.  Gillespie,  however, 
would  hear  of  none  ; the  honour  of  a military  man,  he  said, 
must  be  satisfied,  and  nothing  but  blood , or  at  least  every 
effort  to  draw  it,  could  form  that  satisfaction. 

The  combatants  fired  and  missed  ; they  fired  again,  no 
mischief  was  the  consequence.  A reconciliation  was  now 
proposed,  but  objected  to  by  Gillespie  ; and  will  it  be 
believed  that  in  a civilised  country,  when  both  combatants 
were  satisfied,  one  of  the  principals  should  be  instantly  slain 
by  a second?  Yet  such  was  the  case.  My  brother  stood 
two  fires  from  his  opponent,  and  whilst  professing  his 
readiness  to  be  reconciled,  was  shot  dead  by  the  hand  of 
his  opponent’s  second. 

Gillespie  himself  is  now  departed  ; he  died  by  the  same 
death  that  he  had  inflicted.  But  he  was  more  favoured  by 
Providence  ; he  died  the  death  of  a soldier — he  fell  by  the 
hand  of  the  enemy,  not  by  the  hand  of  an  intimate. 

William  was  my  very  beloved  brother  ! The  news  soon 
reached  me  in  Dublin.  I could  not,  or  rather  I durst  not, 
give  utterance  to  the  nature  and  excess  of  my  feelings  on  the 
communication.  Thus  much  I will  admit,  that  sorrow  had 
the  least  share  in  those  thoughts  which  predominated.  A 
passion  not  naturally  mine  absorbed  every  other  ; my  deter- 
mination was  fixed  ; I immediately  set  out  post,  but  mj 
brother  had  been  interred  prior  to  my  arrival,  and  Gillespie, 
the  sole  object  of  my  vengeance,  had  fled,  nor  was  his  retreat 
to  be  discovered.  I lost  no  time  in  procuring  a warrant  for 
murder  against  him  from  Mr.  Ryan,  a magistrate.  I sought 
him  in  every  place  to  which  I could  attach  suspicion  ; day 
and  night  my  pursuit  was  continued,  but,  as  it  pleased  God, 
in  vain.  I was  not,  indeed,  in  a fit  state  for  such  a rencontre, 
for,  had  we  met,  he  or  I would  surely  have  perished. 

I returned  to  Dublin,  and  as  my  mind  grew  cooler,  thanked 
Heaven  that  I had  not  personally  found  him.  I,  however, 
published  advertisements  widely,  offering  a rev/ard  for  his 


104  Barrington’s  recollections. 

apprehension  ; and,  at  length,  he  surrendered  into  the 
prison  of  Maryborough. 

The  assizes  approached,  and  I cannot  give  the  sequel  of 
this  melancholy  story  better  than  by  a short  recital  of 
Gillespie’s  extraordinary  trial,  and  the  still  more  extra- 
ordinary incidents  which  terminated  the  transaction. 

The  judges  arrived  at  the  assize  town — it  was  during  the 
summer  assizes  of  1788 — accompanied  in  the  usual  way  by 
the  High  Sheriff,  Mr.  Lyons,  of  Watercastle,  and  escorted  by 
numerous  bailiffs  and  a grand  cavalcade.  Mr.  Lyons  was  a 
gentleman  of  taste  and  elegance  who  had  travelled  much. 
He  possessed  a small  fortune  and  a beautiful  cottage  ornee , 
on  the  banks  of  the  Nore,  near  Lord  De  Vesci’s.  Mr. 
Thomas  Kemmis,  afterwards  Crown  Solicitor  of  Ireland, 
was  the  attorney  very  judiciously  selected  by  Captain 
Gillespie  to  conduct  his  defence. 

The  mode  of  choosing  juries  in  criminal  cases  is  well 
known  to  every  lawyer,  and  its  description  would  be  unin- 
teresting to  an  ordinary  reader.  Suffice  it  to  say,  that  by 
the  methods  then  used  of  selecting,  arranging,  and  summon- 
ing the  panel,  a sheriff  or  sub-sheriff  in  good  understanding 
with  a prisoner  might  afford  him  very  considerable  if  not 
decisive  aid.  And  when  it  is  considered  that  juries  must  be 
unanimous,  even  one  dissentient  or  obstinate  juror  being 
capable  of  effectually  preventing  any  conviction,  and  further, 
that  the  charge  we  are  alluding  to  was  that  of  murder  or 
homicide,  occurring  in  consequence  of  a duel,  on  the  same 
ground  and  at  the  same  time,  it  might  fairly  be  expected  that 
the  culprit  should  stand  a good  chance  of  acquittal  from 
military  men,  who,  accustomed  to  duelling  and  living  in  a 
country  where  affairs  of  that  kind  were  then  more  frequent 
than  in  any  other,  would  obviously  be  inclined  to  regard  the 
circumstance  more  indulgently  than  a jury  of  mere  civilians 
would  do. 

To  select  by  management  a military  jury  was,  therefore, 


FATAL  DUEL  OF  MY  BROTHER. 


105 

the  natural  object  of  the  prisoner  and  his  friends  ; and,  in 
fact,  the  list  appeared  with  a number  of  half-pay  officers  at 
the  head  of  it,  who,  as  gentlemen,  were  naturally  pained  by 
seeing  a brother  officer  and  a man  of  most  prepossessing 
appearance  in  the  dock  for  murder.  The  two  prisoners 
challenged  forty-eight  ; the  list  was  expended,  and  the 
prosecutor  was  driven  back  to  shew  cause  why  he  objected 
to  the  first  thirteen.  No  legal  ground  for  such  objection 
could  be  supported,  and  thus,  out  of  twelve  jurors,  no  less 
than  ten  were  military  officers.  The  present  Lord  Downe 
and  the  late  Judge  Fletcher  were  the  prisoner’s  counsel. 

On  this,  perhaps,  the  most  interesting  trial  ever  known  in 
that  county,  numerous  witnesses  having  been  examined,  the 
principal  facts  proved  for  the  prosecution  were — that  after 
M‘Kenzie  and  my  brother  had  fired  four  shots  without  effect, 
the  latter  said  he  hoped  enough  had  been  done  for  both  their 
honours,  at  the  same  time  holding  out  his  hand  to  M‘Kenzie, 
whose  second,  Captain  Gillespie,  exclaimed  that  his  friend 
should  not  be  satisfied,  and  that  the  affair  should  proceed. 
The  spectators  combined  in  considering  it  concluded,  and  a 
small  circle  having  been  formed,  my  brother,  who  persisted 
in  uttering  his  pacific  wishes,  interposed  some  harsh  ex- 
pressions towards  Gillespie,  who  thereupon  losing  all  control 
over  his  temper,  suddenly  threw  a handkerchief  to  William 
Barrington,  asking  if  he  dared  to  take  a corner  of  that.  The 
unfortunate  boy,  full  of  spirit  and  intrepidity,  snatched  at 
the  handkerchief,  and  at  the  same  moment  received  a ball 
from  Gillespie  through  his  body — so  close  were  they 
together  that  his  coat  appeared  scorched  by  the  powder. 
He  fell,  and  was  carried  to  a cabin  hard  by,  where  he  expired 
in  great  agony  the  same  evening.  As  he  was  in  the  act  of 
falling,  his  pistol  went  off.  Gillespie  immediately  fled,  and 
was  followed  by  three  of  his  own  dragoons,  whom  he  had 
brought  with  him,  and  who  were  present  at  the  transaction, 
but  whom  he  declined  examining  on  the  trial.  The  specta- 


106  Barrington’s  recollections. 

tors  were  very  numerous,  and  scarcely  a dry  eye  left  the 
field. 

Captain  Gillespie’s  defence  rested  upon  an  assertion  on 
his  part  of  irritating  expressions  having  been  used  by  my 
brother,  adding  that  the  cock  of  his  own  pistol  was  knocked 
off  by  my  brother’s  fire.  But  that  very  fact  proved  every- 
thing against  him  ; because  his  shot  must  have  been  fired 
and  have  taken  effect  in  my  brother’s  body  previously,  for 
if  the  cock  had  been  broken  in  the  first  place,  Gillespie’s 
pistol  could  not  have  gone  off.  In  truth,  the  whole  cir- 
cumstance of  a second  killing  a principal  because  he  desired 
reconciliation  was,  and  remains,  totally  unexampled  in  the 
history  of  duelling,  even  in  the  most  barbarous  eras  and 
countries. 

Judge  Bradstreet,  who  tried  the  prisoners,  held  it  to  be 
clearly  murder  by  law.  A verdict  of  even  manslaughter 
must,  he  contended,  be  returned  by  a forced  or  rather  false 
construction  ; but  acquit  him,  Gillespie,  generally,  the  jury 
could  not. 

The  prosecution  was  not  followed  up  against  M‘Kenzie, 
whose  conduct  throughout  had  beea  that  of  an  officer  and  a 
gentleman,  and  who  had  likewise  desired  reconciliation.  Of 
course,  he  was  acquitted. 

The  jury  had  much  difficulty  in  making  up  their  verdict. 
Some  of  them,  being  men  of  considerable  reputation, 
hesitated  long.  They  could  not  acquit ; they  would  not 
convict  ; and  hence  a course  was  taken  which  corresponded 
neither  with  the  law  nor  the  evidence.  A verdict  of  “justi- 
fiable homicide  ” was  returned,  in  consequence  of  which 
Captain  Gillespie  was  discharged  on  his  recognisance  to 
appear  in  the  Court  of  King’s  Bench  the  ensuing  term,  and 
plead  his  Majesty’s  pardon. 

Thus  was  compromised  the  justice  of  the  country.  Thus 
commenced  the  brilliant  career  of  that  general  whom  the 
munificence  of  the  British  nation  has  immortalised  by  a monu- 


FATAL  DUEL  OF  MY  BROTHER. 


107 


ment  amongst  her  heroes  ! Thus  did  the  blood  of  one  of  the 
finest  youths  of  Ireland  first  whet  Gillespie’s  appetite  for  that 
course  of  glorious  butchery  to  which  he  owed  his  subsequent 
elevation.  But  conscience  is  retributive,  and  Heaven  is  just. 
I hear  that  he  was  never  happy  after — intrepid  to  excess,  he 
often  tempted  fate  ; and  his  restless  and  remorseful  existence 
was  at  length  terminated  by  a Gentoo  under  the  walls  of 
Bangalore. 

The  circumstances  attending  General  Gillespie’s  death 
are  remarkable,  and  manifest,  in  my  opinion,  desperation 
rather  than  real  bravery.  He  had,  contrary  to  instructions, 
attempted  to  storm — his  fire  was  inadequate,  his  troops 
repulsed  ; new  attempts  were  made,  but  again  unsuccessfully, 
numerous  brave  men  being  sacrificed  to  no  purpose.  Still 
the  general  persisted  ; even  the  guard  was  taken  from  the 
paymaster,  who  had  treasure  under  his  care.  Gillespie 
was  aware  that  he  had  disobeyed  instructions,  and  was 
determined  to  succeed  or  perish  in  the  attempt.  He 
damned  the  paymaster,  who  remonstrated  against  his  being 
left  unprotected,  looked  for  a moment  through  his  glass, 
and  seeing  his  men  falling  fast,  he  drew  his  sword,  called 
upon  every  soldier  to  follow  him,  and  in  five  minutes 
received  several  balls,  which  ended  his  cares  and  existence. 
Requiescat  in  pace  ! — but  never  will  I set  my  foot  in  West- 
minster Abbey. 

Scarcely  was  the  melancholy  trial  referred  to  over,  when  the 
case  was  succeeded  by  another  almost  in  the  opposite  extreme 
— altogether  too  ludicrous,  indeed,  to  form  die  termination 
of  so  serious  a business,  but  at  the  same  time  too  extra- 
ordinary and  too  public  to  be  omitted.  It  was  certainly 
in  its  way  as  unparalleled  an  affair  as  that  which  gave  rise 
to  it. 

On  the  evening  of  the  trial,  my  second  brother,  Henry 
French  Barrington,  a gentleman  of  considerable  estate,  and 
whose  perfect  good  temper,  but  intrepid  and  irresistible 


108  Barrington’s  recollections. 

impetuosity  when  assailed,  were  well  known — the  latter 
quality  having  been  severely  felt  in  the  county  before  — came 
to  me.  He  was,  in  fact,  a complete  country  gentleman, 
utterly  ignorant  of  the  law,  its  terms,  and  proceedings  ; and 
as  I was  the  first  of  my  name  who  had  ever  followed  any 
profession,  the  army  excepted,  my  opinion,  so  soon  as  I 
became  a counsellor,  was  considered  by  him  as  oracular  ; 
indeed,  questions  far  beyond  mine,  and  sometimes  beyond 
the  power  of  any  person  existing,  to  solve,  were  frequently 
submitted  for  my  decision  by  our  neighbours  in  the  country. 

Having  called  me  aside  out  of  the  bar-room,  my  brother 
seemed  greatly  agitated,  and  informed  me  that  a friend  of 
ours,  who  had  seen  the  jury  list,  declared  that  it  had  been 
decidedly  packed  ! — concluding  his  appeal  by  asking  me  what 
he  ought  to  do  ? I told  him  we  should  have  “ challenged 
the  array.”  “ That  was  my  own  opinion,  Jonah,”  said  he, 
“ and  I will  do  it  now  ! ” adding  an  oath,  and  expressing  a 
degree  of  animation  which  I could  not  account  for.  I 
apprised  him  that  it  was  now  too  late,  as  it  should  have  been 
done  before  the  trial. 

He  said  no  more,  but  departed  instantly,  and  I did  not 
think  again  upon  the  subject.  An  hour  after,  however,  my 
brother  sent  in  a second  request  to  see  me.  I found  him, 
to  all  appearance,  quite  cool  and  tranquil.  “ I have  done 
it,  by  G — d ! ” cried  he  exultingly  ; “ ’twas  better  late  than 
never  ! ” and  with  that  he  produced  from  his  coat  pocket 
a long  queue  and  a handful  of  powdered  hair  a r/i  curls. 
“ See  here  ! ” continued  he,  “ the  cowardly  rascal  ! ” 

“ Heavens  ! ” cried  I,  “ French,  are  you  mad  ? ” 

“ Mad  ! ” replied  he,  “ no,  no  ! I followed  your  own 
advice  exactly.  I went  directly  after  I left  you  to  the  grand 
jury  room  to  ‘ challenge  the  array  ' and  there  I challenged 
the  head  of  the  array — that  cowardly  Lyons  ! He  peremp- 
torily refused  to  fight  me,  so  I knocked  him  down  before 
the  grand  jury,  and  cut  off  his  curls  and  tail  ; see,  here  they 


FATAL  DUEL  OF  MY  BROTHER.  IO9 

are — the  rascal  ! and  my  brother  Jack  is  gone  to  flog  the 
sub-sheriff.” 

I was  thunderstruck,  and  almost  thought  my  brother  was 
crazy , since  he  was  obviously  not  in  liquor  at  all.  But  after 
some  inquiry  I found  that,  like  many  other  country  gentle- 
men, he  took  words  in  their  commonest  acceptation.  He 
had  seen  the  high  sheriff  coming  in  with  a great  “ array” 
and  had  thus  conceived  my  suggestion  as  to  challenging  the 
array  was  literal  ; and  accordingly  repairing  to  the  grand 
jury  dining-room,  had  called  the  high  sheriff  aside,  told 
him  he  had  omitted  challenging  him  before  the  trial,  as  he 
ought  to  have  done  according  to  advice  of  counsel,  but  that 
it  was  better  late  than  never,  and  that  he  must  immediately 
come  out  and  fight  him.  Mr.  Lyons,  conceiving  my  brother 
to  be  intoxicated,  drew  back,  and  refused  the  invitation  in  a 
most  peremptory  manner.  French  then  collared  him, 
tripped  up  his  heels,  and  putting  his  foot  on  his  breast,  cut 
off  his  side-curls  and  queue  with  a carving-knife,  which  an  old 
waiter  named  Spedding,  who  had  been  my  father’s  butler, 
and  liked  the  thing,  had  readily  brought  him  from  the  dinner- 
table.  Having  secured  his  spoils  my  brother  immediately 
came  off  in  triumph  to  relate  to  me  his  achievement. 

Mr.  Lyons  was  a remarkably  fine,  handsome  man  ; and 
having  lived  very  much  abroad,  was  by  no  means  acquainted 
with  the  humours  of  Irish  country  gentlemen,  with  whom  he 
had  associated  but  little,  and  by  whom  he  was  not  at  all 
liked  ; and  this  his  first  reception  must  have  rather  surprised 
him. 

Mr.  Flood,  one  of  the  grand  jury,  afterwards  informed 
me  that  no  human  gravity  could  possibly  withstand  the 
astonishment  and  ludicrous  figure  of  the  mutilated  high 
sheriff  ; the  laugh  consequently  was  both  loud  and  long. 
Nobody  chose  to  interfere  in  the  concern  ; and,  as  Mr. 
Lyons  had  sustained  no  bodily  injury,  he  received  very  little 
condolement  amongst  the  country  gentlemen. 


1 10 


Barrington’s  recollections. 


My  situation  in  this  curious  denouement  was  truly  to  be 
commiserated,  since  I should  be  considered  as  the  adviser 
of  my  brother  ; and  I,  therefore,  determined  to  consult  Mr. 
Downe,  Gillespie’s  counsel,  as  to  what  was  best  to  be  done 
in  the  matter. 

Mr.  (afterwards  Lord)  Downe,  always  proud,  icy,  and 
decorous,  seemed  to  think  my  brother’s  case  irremediable, 
and  that  a couple  of  years’  imprisonment  and  a heavy  fine 
at  least  must  be  the  necessary  result  of  such  a trimming  of 
a high  sheriff  in  the  face  of  a county — advising  French  at 
the  same  time  to  fly  and  make  terms,  if  possible.  “ Fly  ! ” 
said  French  Barrington,  when  I informed  him  of  the  sugges- 
tion ; “ no,  no  ! tell  Counsellor  Thingumbob  to  go  to  the 
ball  to-night,  and  he’ll  see  more  of  the  matter.”  In  fact, 
my  brother  went  to  the  ball-room  when  it  was  crowded,  and 
having  tied  the  sheriff’s  curls  and  queue  to  a lamp  which 
hung  in  the  centre  of  the  room,  got  upon  a form,  and  made 
a loud  proclamation  of  the  whole  transaction  from  first  to 
last.  A sort  of  sympathetic  feeling  caught  the  young  men 
in  the  room,  many  of  whom  were  my  brother’s  companions  ; 
they  immediately  led  out  their  partners,  and  formed  a circle- 
dance,  as  about  a May-pole,  around  the  sheriff’s  spoils, 
which  were  sticking  to  the  lamp.  The  remonstrances  of 
mothers  and  other  discreet  efforts  were  totally  vain — 
the  girls  liked  the  fun,  and  a succession  of  different  sets 
did  honour  in  turn  to  Mr.  Lyons’  late  queue  and  curls. 
A club  was  subsequently  proposed,  to  be  called  the  Curl 
Club , and  to  be  held  every  summer  assize  ; and  this  was 
for  several  years  kept  up. 

The  ensuing  morning  my  brother  dressed  up  the  bridle  of 
his  hunter  with  the  curls  and  queue  newly  powdered,  and 
having  paraded  the  streets  for  a considerable  time,  avoiding 
the  judge’s  residence,  he  iode  home  ; and  was  never  called 
to  account  or  molested  on  the  subject  in  any  way  whatso- 
ever. 


FATAL  DUEL  OF  MY  BROTHER. 


Ill 


Mr.  Lyons  left  the  country  almost  immediately,  went 
back  to  the  Continent,  and  never  after,  at  least  to  my 
knowledge,  returned. 

The  matter,  however,  having  been  justly  represented  in  a 
serious  light  to  the  judge,  he  sent  for  me,  and  I related  the 
entire  truth.  He  had  been  much  dissatisfied  with  the 
verdict,  and  had  received  strong  hints  as  to  the  arrangement 
of  the  jury  ; he  could  not  restrain  a smile,  but  said  he  must, 
if  required,  give  permission  to  a magistrate  to  take  examina- 
tions against  Mr.  Barrington.  He,  however,  declined  all 
personal  interference  on  circuit  ; desiring  Mr.  Lyons  to 
apply  to  the  King’s  Bench,  where  no  doubt  he  would  be 
duly  attended  to,  according  to  the  merits  of  the  case.  But 
no  examinations  whatever  were  taken,  nor  was  any  applica- 
tion made  to  the  King’s  Bench.  It  could  not  have  been 
made  without  involving  the  question  as  to  the  way  in  which 
the  jury  was  constituted  ; and  since  that  matter  would  not 
bear  sifting,  the  circumstances  were  suffered  to  remain 
without  further  investigation. 


1 12 


Barrington’s  recollections. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 
entrance  into  parliament. 

The  day  on  which  I first  took  my  seat  in  the  Irish  Parlia- 
ment for  the  city  of  Tuam  I still  reflect  on  as  one  of  the 
most  gratifying  of  my  life.  The  circumstance  abstractedly 
was  but  of  secondary  consideration  ; but  its  occurrence 
brought  back  to  my  mind  the  events  of  past  ages,  and  the 
high  respectability  of  the  race  from  which  I sprang.  I 
almost  fancied,  as  I entered  the  House,  that  I could  see  my 
forefathers  ranged  upon  those  seats  which  they  had  so  long 
and  so  honourably  occupied  in  the  senate  of  their  country, 
welcoming  their  descendant  to  that  post  which  had  not  for 
a few  years  past  been  filled  by  any  member  of  the  family.  In 
fact,  the  purer  part  of  my  ambition  was  hereby  gratified. 
I felt  myself  an  entirely  independent  representative  of  an 
equally  independent  nation — as  a man  assuming  his  proper 
station  in  society,  not  acquiring  a new  one. 

I confess  I always  had,  and  still  continue  to  have,  and  to 
nourish,  th^  pride  which  arises  from  having  been  born  a 
gentleman.  I am  aware  that  wealth,  and  commerce,  and 
perhaps  talent,  have  in  modern  times  occasioned  family 
pride  to  be  classed  in  the  rank  of  follies,  but  I feel  it,  never- 
theless, most  strongly  ; and  if  it  be  even  a crime,  I am 
culpable — if  a folly,  I submit  to  be  regarded  as  imbecile. 
The  sensations  I experienced  were,  indeed,  altogether 
delightful  upon  finding  myself  seated  under  that  grand 
and  solemn  dome — I looked  around  me  and  saw  the  most 
dignified  men  of  that  day,  the  ablest  orators  of  the  period, 
many  of  the  best  bred  courtiers,  and  some  of  the  most 
unsophisticated  patriots  in  the  empire  ! These,  including 
a few  friends  and  intimates  of  my  family,  were  mingled 


ENTRANCE  INTO  PARLIAMENT. 


“3 


here  and  there  in  amicable  groups,  and  by  turns  kindly 
encouraged  a young  barrister  of  only  two  years’  practice, 
without  patronage  or  party,  as  a fair  aspirant  to  rank  and 
eminence. 

I was  very  greatly  moved  and  excited  ; but  it  was  not 
excitement  of  an  ephemeral  or  feverish  character  ; on  the 
contrary,  my  emotions  had  their  source  in  a tranquil,  deep- 
seated,  perhaps  proud  satisfaction,  impossible  to  be  clearly 
described,  and  almost  impossible  to  be  felt  by  any  but 
such  as  might  be  placed  in  circumstances  precisely  similar. 

There  were  members  present,  I have  already  said,  with 
whom  I was  personally  acquainted.  My  friend,  Sir  John 
Parnell,  partly,  I am  sure,  on  my  account,  and  partly,  no 
doubt,  with  a view  to  the  service  of  Government,  lost  no 
time  in  introducing  me  to  many  of  his  own  particular 
friends. 

I dined  with  him  on  that  day  ; he  was  then  Chancellor  of 
the  Exchequer.  The  entire  party  I do  not  recollect  ; but 
I remember  perfectly  those  individuals  of  it  with  whom  I 
subsequently  cultivated  acquaintance.  Amongst  them  were 
Major  Hobart,  since  Lord  Buckinghamshire  ; Isaac  Corry  ; 
Sir  John,  since  Lord  De  Blacquiere  ; Robert  Thoroton  ; 
White  ; Marcus  Beresford,  Lord  Clare’s  nephew  ; the 
present  Lord  Oriel,  then  Speaker  ; Thomas  Burgh,  of  Bert  ; 
Sir  Hercules  Langreish  ; and  James  Cuffe,  since  Lord 
Tyrawley.  The  scene  was  new  to  me — hitherto,  my  society 
in  Dublin  had  naturally  fallen  amongst  the  members  of  my 
own  profession  ; we  were  all  barristers,  and  I felt  myself  but 
a barrister  ; and  though  certainly  we  formed  at  that  time  the 
second-best  society  in  Ireland,  it  was  inferior  to  that  of 
which  I had  now  become  a member.  I found  myself,  in 
fact,  associated  as  an  equal  in  a circle  of  legislators  whose 
good  breeding,  wit,  and  conviviality  were  mingled  with 
'political  and  general  information.  The  first  steps  of  the 
ladder  were  mounted  ; and  as  meanwhile  Sir  John’s  cham- 

(D  311) 


I 


1 14  Barrington’s  recollections. 

pagne  was  excellent,  and  quickly  passed  round,  my  spirits 
rose  to  a pitch  far  higher  than  in  the  morning,  and  any 
talent  for  conversation  or  anecdote  which  I might  possess 
involuntarily  coming  out,  Sir  John  Parnell  shaking  his  fat 
sides  with  laughter,  according  to  his  usual  custom,  said  to  me 
before  we  broke  up,  “ Barrington,  you’ll  do  ! ” upon  which 
Sir  Hercules  Langreish,  who  had  very  much  the  tone  of  a 
Methodist  preacher,  yet  was  one  of  the  wittiest  men  in 
Ireland,  immediately  said,  “ No,  we  must  have  another 
trial  ” ; and  a day  was  fixed  to  dine  with  him. 

My  acquaintance  soon  augmented  to  a degree  almost 
inconvenient.  My  friendship  I limited  to  such  men  as  I 
held  to  possess  congeniality  of  sentiment  ; and  before  any 
long  time  had  elapsed,  I was  not  only  the  frequent  guest 
of  many  of  the  distinguished  characters  of  Ireland,  but 
was  considered  as  an  early  and  favoured  candidate  for 
any  professional  promotion  which  the  shortness  of  my 
standing  at  the  Bar  would  admit  of. 

Reflecting,  soon  after  I had  taken  my  seat,  on  the  novel 
nature  of  my  situation,  I felt  that  it  was  beset  by  con- 
siderable difficulties.  I allude  to  the  decision  necessary 
for  me  to  come  to  with  respect  to  the  line  of  politics  I 
meant  to  pursue.  I was  not  a new  man,  by  whom  any 
course  might  be  taken  without  exciting  comment  or  ques- 
tion. On  the  contrary,  I was  of  an  old  family,  the  import- 
ance and  influence  of  which  I was  desirous  to  revive,  and 
hence  it  became  requisite  that  I should  weigh  my  actions 
well,  and  avoid  precipitancy. 

Political  parties  at  that  time  ran  high,  though  but  little 
individual  hostility  existed.  Grattan,  the  two  Ponsonbys, 
Curran,  Brownlow,  Forbes,  Bowes,  Daly,  Connolly,  Arthur 
Brown,  and  numerous  other  most  respectable  person- 
ages were  then  linked  together  in  a phalanx  of  opposi- 
tion, which,  under  the  name  of  Whiggery,  not  only  assailed 
the  Government  upon  every  feasible  occasion,  but  was 


ENTRANCE  INTO  PARLIAMENT. 


lI5 


always  proposing  measures  which,  under  the  then  existing 
system,  were  utterly  inadmissible.  The  opposition  had  the 
advantage  in  point  of  ability,  and,  therefore,  nothing  but 
supreme  talent  had  any  chance  amongst  them  of  render- 
ing its  possessor  useful  or  valued.  Though  my  nature  was 
patriotic,  I ever  respected  the  aristocracy,  which,  whilst 
the  democracy  exhibits  a people’s  general  character  and 
energy,  tends  to  embellish  the  state,  and  to  give  it  an 
imposing  grandeur. 

The  supporters  of  the  Irish  Government,  as  I have  said, 
were  certainly  inferior,  except  in  patronage  and  power,  to 
the  opposition  by  which  they  were  assailed.  But  they  lived 
socially  ; there  was  a sort  of  convivial  union  amongst  them 
which,  whether  in  high  or  low  life,  is,  of  all  other  ties,  for 
a' while  most  binding  upon  my  countrymen.  It  was  there- 
fore rather  inconsistent  in  Lord  Clare  to  give  offence,  as 
he  did,  to  many  of  the  most  respectable  gentlemen  of 
Ireland  by  calling  the  Whigs  an  “ eating  and  drinking  club,” 
since  the  sarcasm  might,  at  least  with  equal  justice,  have 
been  retorted  on  the  supporters  of  his  Majesty’s  Govern- 
ment. All  the  great  constitutional  questions  were,  in  1790, 
supposed  to  have  been  arranged.  Still  the  opposition 
sought  a more  radical  reform,  to  which  the  Government 
would  not  accede.  They  wrangled,  in  fact,  about  every 
trifle,  and  that  at  a time  when  the  local  concerns  of  the 
country  were  advancing  to  the  highest  pitch  of  prosperity. 
To  neither  party,  however,  attached  any  dishonourable 
stigma,  which  should  prevent  an  honest  man  from  joining 
their  ranks  ; and  meanwhile  I sought  celebrity  and  advance- 
ment. The  coast  was  clear  before  me.  I was  my  own 
master,  and  free  to  choose  my  own  course.  In  case  of 
'my  connecting  myself  with  the  Whigs,  I saw  that  I must 
play  but  a very  inferior  part  in  their  game.  I felt  that 
jamidst  such  an  assemblage  of  talent,  I had  but  little  right 
to  expect  eminence,  and  still  less  probability  of  acquiring 


Il6  BARRINGTON’S  RECOLLECTIONS. 

professional  advancement,  even  if  my  friends  should  become 
victorious.  But  above  all  I reflected  that  what  at  first  view  had 
appeared  to  me  a blaze  of  constitutional  patriotism,  dwindled 
on  a closer  inspection  into  what  is  generally  called  party. 

The  country  had  prospered  beyond  all  possible  anticipa- 
tion, and  was  still  further  advancing  in  prosperity,  under 
the  then  existing  system  of  administration.  I did  not  per- 
ceive that  any  immediate  change  of  men  or  of  measures 
was  at  all  in  prospect,  nor  that  it  was  at  that  moment 
necessary,  or  even  desirable.  My  immediate  personal  con- 
nexions were  on  the  side  of  the  Government.  I had  always 
doubted  the  sincerity  of  the  Whigs  ; my  doubts  were  now 
realised,  and,  on  the  whole  consideration,  I determined  to 
attach  myself  to  the  administration.  I had  previously 
voted  with  them  on  the  choice  of  a Speaker  ; but  that  I did 
not  consider  as  constituting  any  pledge  as  to  my  future 
conduct.  I voted  for  Mr.  Forster,  as  the  friend  of  Sir  John 
Parnell,  and  because  I considered  him  more  fitting  for  the 
station  than  his  opponent,  Mr.  William  Ponsonby. 

Thus  my  mind  being  at  length  made  up,  I determined  to 
render  myself  of  some  importance  to  the  side  I had  adopted. 
The  common  course  of  desultory  debate,  even  conquest 
over  declaimers  of  my  own  calibre,  would  have  led  to  no 
distinction.  I decided  either  to  rise  or  fall  ; and,  with  this 
view,  resolved  to  fly  at  once  at  the  highest  game,  in  which 
attempt,  even  if  I should  not  succeed,  the  trial  itself  would 
be  honourable.  My  earliest  effort  was,  therefore,  directed 
against  the  two  most  celebrated  speakers  of  that  period, 
Grattan  and  Curran  ; and  on  the  first  day  I rose,  I exhibited 
a specimen  of  what  I may  now  call  true  arrogance.  The 
novelty  of  such  unexpected  effrontery  surprised  the  House, 
and  afterwards  surprised  myself.  It  was  a species  of  bold 
hardihood,  which,  I believe,  no  person  who  had  a just  sense 
of  his  own  inferiority  would  have  ventured  on  without  great 
hesitation. 


ENTRANCE  INTO  PARLIAMENT.  117 

I launched  into  a strong  philippic  on  the  conduct  of  the 
most  able  and  respectable  opposition  that  Ireland  had  ever 
possessed.  I followed  and  traced  the  Whigs,  as  I thought, 
through  all  their  meanderings  and  designs.  In  a word,  I 
surpassed  the  boundaries,  not  only  of  what  I had  myself 
resolved,  but  of  what  common  prudence  and  propriety  should 
have  dictated.  The  Government  party  at  the  same  time  was 
evidently  not  gratified.  Its  members,  no  doubt,  considered 
me  as  a lost  partizan,  who  had  courted  and  called  for  my  own 
suppression  ; and  with  some  portion  of  the  same  feeling 
myself,  I sat  down  almost  ashamed  of  my  forwardness,  and 
awaiting,  if  not  with  resignation,  at  least  with  certainty,  a just 
although  cruel  chastisement.  How  then  must  I have  been 
surprised,  and  how  wofully  rebuked,  by  the  mild  and  gentle- 
manly retorts  which  I received  from  Grattan  ! whilst 
Curran's  good  temper  never  shewed  itself  more  conspicu- 
ously than  in  his  treating  me  merely  with  wit  and  facetious- 
ness. I was  abashed  and  mortified  on  contrasting  the 
forbearance  of  those  great  men  with  my  own  intemperance. 
Had  I perceived  anything  like  contempt  in  that  forbearance, 
I really  believe  I should  have  found  it  difficult  to  resume  my 
spirits  in  the  House  ; but  no  such  feeling  appeared  towards 
me,  and  it  is  most  singular  to  say  that  some  incidents  which 
| sprang  from  that  very  night's  debate  gave  rise  both  to  the 
friendship  of  Mr.  Grattan,  with  which  I was  afterwards 
honoured,  and  to  the  close  intimacy  between  me  and  Mr. 
Curran,  which  was  never  after  interrupted. 

I had  the  good  fortune  on  that  occasion  to  make  one 
fair  hit  as  to  Grattan,  which  he  afterwards  told  me  he  was 
much  pleased  by.  It  came  across  me  at  the  moment  ; in 
fact,  most  of  the  speeches  I ever  made  have  been  literally 
impromptu . I never  studied  a set  speech  in  my  life,  except 
on  law  cases  ; and  perhaps  to  this  circumstance  I may 
I honestly  attribute  an  incorrectness  of  language  that  fre- 
quently attended  my  best  efforts. 


n8  Barrington’s  recollections. 

Grattan  had  repeatedly  assailed  our  side  of  the  House  as 
“ a side  from  which  all  public  virtues  had  long  been 
banished.”  I observed  “ that  the  right  honourable  gentle- 
man had  proved  unequivocally  the  falsehood  of  his  own 
assertion,  that  public  virtue  was  confined  to  one  side  of 
the  House,  for  I had  had  the  honour  of  seeing  the  right 
honourable  gentleman  himself  on  both”  I alluded  to  his 
having  supported  Government  against  Mr.  Flood,  after  the 
vote  of  £50,000  by  Parliament.  This  joke  was  loudly 
cheered,  and  perhaps  somewhat  contributed  to  save  me 
from  discomfiture. 

From  that  day  I attached  myself  zealously  and  sincerely 
to  the  administration  of  Lord  Westmoreland.  I became 
more  or  less  intimate  with  almost  every  member  of  my  party 
in  Parliament.  I formed  close  and  lasting  friendships  with 
Edward  Cooke,  the  unfortunate  and  lamented  Robert 
Thoroton,  Isaac  Corry,  and  Sir  John  De  Blacquiere  ; and  it 
was  not  very  long  before  the  opposition  also  opened  their 
convivial  ranks  to  receive  me.  Curran  and  Arthur  Brown 
were  the  earliest  of  my  intimates  on  that  side  the  House  ; 
and  before  1792  had  expired,  I felt  myself  as  happy  on  all 
points,  and  as  much  befriended,  as  any  man  of  my  standing 
who  had  preceded  me. 

Before  I went  into  Parliament  I had  become  acquainted 
with  Mr.  R.  Thoroton,  who  had  come  over  to  Ireland  with 
the  Duke  of  Rutland.  He  had  the  manner  of  a coxcomb, 
but  the  heart  of  a friend,  and  the  sentiments  of  a gentleman. 
He  was  clerk  of  the  House  of  Commons  ; and  being  by  no 
means  a common  man,  formed  a necessary  part  of  all  our 
societies.  He  and  I lived  much  together  ; and  I found  the 
intercourse  very  advantageous,  since  my  friend  knew  every- 
thing that  was  going  forward,  and,  under  the  rose,  set  me 
right  on  many  occasions.  At  the  same  time,  I was  aware 
that  circumstances  existed  which  were  the  cause  to  him  of 
great  anxiety  ; and,  finally,  a most  unexpected  event — 


ENTRANCE  INTO  PARLIAMENT. 


H9 


namely,  the  death  of  Mr.  Thoroton  by  his  own  hand — 
deprived  me  of  one  of  the  sincerest  and  most  useful  friends 
I ever  possessed. 

But  amongst  the  foremost  of  all  those  persons  who,  from 
first  to  last,  endeavoured  to  do  me  service  was  a man 
universally  esteemed  for  his  gentlemanly  manners,  and  as 
universally  abused  for  public  jobbing.  As  to  the  latter,  it 
concerned  not  me,  whilst  his  friendship  was  of  the  greatest 
advantage. 

Sir  John,  afterwards  Lord  De  Blacquiere,  I believe  of 
Swiss  descent,  had  been  colonel  of  a regiment  of  heavy 
cavalry  in  Ireland,  had  acted  as  secretary  of  legation  in 
France  with  Lord  Harcourt,  and  having  succeeded  him 
there  for  a short  time  as  minister,  came  to  Ireland  with  his 
lordship  as  principal  secretary,  and  becoming  a permanent 
resident,  attached  himself  to  that  side  of  politics  whence 
only  he  could  derive  the  great  object  of  his  exertions — a 
revenue  sufficiently  ample  to  enable  him  to  entertain  his 
friends  as  well,  and  far  more  agreeably,  than  any  other 
person  I had  previously  met.  Nobody  ever  understood 
eating  and  drinking  better  than  Sif  John  De  Blacquiere  ; 
and  no  man  ever  was  better  seconded  in  the  former  respect 
than  he  was  by  his  cook,  Mrs.  Smith,  whom  he  brought  from 
Paris  after  he  had  been  minister  there.  His  company 
seldom  exceeded  ten  in  number,  but  so  happily  was  it 
selected  that  I never  yet  saw  a person  rise  from  his  table  who 
did  not  feel  gratified.  Sir  John  was  one  of  the  old  school  ; 
and  with  all  the  playful  good  breeding  by  which  it  was 
distinguished,  he  had  nothing  of  that  starch  pride  which, 
in  more  recent  times,  has  supplanted  conviviality  without 
making  men  either  wiser,  better,  or  happier. 

Sir  John  certainly  was  a pluralist , enjoying  at  one  time 
the  first,  the  middle,  and  the  last  pension  on  the  Irish  civil 
list.  He  was  director  of  the  public  works  in  Dublin  ; and 
to  his  jobbing  is  that  capital  indebted  for  its  wide  streets, 


120 


Barrington’s  recollections. 


paving,  lighting,  and  convenient  fountains.  He  made  as 
much  as  he  could  of  these  works,  it  is  true  ; but  every 
farthing  he  acquired  in  Ireland  he  expended  in  it.  If  his 
money  came  from  the  public  purse,  it  was  distributed  to  the 
public  benefit  ; if  he  received  pensions  from  the  Crown, 
butchers,  bakers,  and  other  tradesmen  pocketed  every 
shilling  of  it.  He  knew  employment  to  be  the  best  species 
of  charity.  In  short,  Sir  John  De.  Blacquiere  was  as  much 
abused,  and  as  much  regarded,  as  any  public  character  of 
any  period. 


SINGULAR  CUSTOMS  IN  THE  IRISH  PARLIAMENT.  121 


CHAPTER  XV. 

SINGULAR  CUSTOMS  IN  THE  IRISH  PARLIAMENT. 

A very  singular  custom  prevailed  in  the  Irish  House  of 
Commons  which  never  was  adopted  in  England,  nor  have  I 
ever  seen  it  mentioned  in  print.  The  description  of  it  may 
be  amusing. 

On  the  day  whereon  the  routine  business  of  the  budget 
was  to  be  opened,  for  the  purpose  of  voting  supplies,  the 
Speaker  invited  the  whole  of  the  members  to  dinner  in  the 
House,  in  his  own  and  the  adjoining  chambers.  Several 
peers  were  accustomed  to  mix  in  the  company  ; and  I 
believe  an  equally  happy,  joyous,  and  convivial  assemblage 
of  legislators  never  were  seen  together.  All  distinctions  as 
to  Government  or  opposition  parties  were  totally  laid  aside, 
harmony,  wit,  wine,  and  good-humour  reigning  triumphant. 
The  Speaker,  Clerk,  Chancellor  of  the  Exchequer,  and  a very 
few  veteran  financiers  remained  in  the  House  till  the  neces- 
sary routine  was  gone  through,  and  then  joined  their  happy 
comrades — the  party  seldom  breaking  up  till  midnight. 

On  the  ensuing  day  the  same  festivities  were  repeated  ; 
but  on  the  third  day,  when  the  report  was  to  be  brought  in, 
and  the  business  discussed  in  detail,  the  scene  totally 
changed  ; the  convivialists  were  now  metamorphosed  into 
downright  public  declamatory  enemies,  and,  ranged  on 
opposite  sides  of  the  House,  assailed  each  other  without 
mercy.  Every  questionable  item  was  debated,  every  pro- 
position deliberately  discussed,  and  more  zealous  or  assidu- 
ous senators  could  nowhere  be  found  than  in  the  very 
members  who,  during  two  days,  had  appeared  to  commit 
the  whole  funds  of  the  nation  to  the  management  of  half 
a dozen  arithmeticians. 


122 


Barrington’s  recollections. 


But  all  this  was  consonant  with  the  national  character  of 
the  individuals.  Set  them  at  table,  and  no  men  enjoyed 
themselves  half  so  much  ; set  them  to  business,  no  men  ever 
worked  with  more  earnestness  and  effect.  A steady  Irish- 
man will  do  more  in  an  hour,  when  fairly  engaged  upon  a 
matter  which  he  understands,  than  any  other  countryman, 
so  far,  at  least,  as  my  observation  has  gone,  in  two.  The 
persons  of  whom  I am  more  immediately  speaking  were 
certainly  extraordinarily  quick  and  sharp  ! I am,  how- 
ever, at  the  same  time  ready  to  admit  that  the  lower  orders 
of  officials — such,  for  instance,  as  mere  clerks  in  the  public 
offices — exhibited  no  claim  to  a participation  in  the  praise 
I have  given  their  superiors  ; they  were,  on  the  other 
hand,  frequently  confused  and  incorrect  ; and  amongst  that 
description  of  persons  I believe  there  were  then  fewer  com- 
petent men  than  in  most  countries. 

Another  custom  in  the  House  gave  rise  to  a very  curious 
anecdote,  which  I shall  here  mention.  The  members  of 
Parliament  formerly  attended  the  House  of  Commons  in  full 
dress — an  arrangement  first  broken  through  by  the  following 
circumstance  : 

A very  important  constitutional  question  was  debating 
between  Government  and  the  opposition — a question,  by 
the  by,  at  which  my  English  reader  will  probably  feel  sur- 
prised— namely,  “ as  to  the  application  of  a sum  of  £60,000, 
then  lying  unappropriated  in  the  Irish  Treasury,  being  a 
balance  after  paying  all  debts  and  demands  upon  the  country 
or  its  establishments.”  The  numbers  seemed  to  be  nearly 
poised — although  it  had  been  supposed  that  the  majority 
would  incline  to  give  it  to  the  King,  whilst  the  opposition 
would  recommend  laying  it  out  upon  the  country  ; when  the 
Sergeant-at-Arms  reported  that  a member  wanted  to  force 
into  the  House  undressed , in  dirty  boots,  and  splashed  up  to 
his  shoulders. 

The  Speaker  could  not  oppose  custom  to  privilege,  and  was 


SINGULAR  CUSTOMS  IN  THE  IRISH  PARLIAMENT.  1 23 


necessitated  to  admit  him.  It  proved  to  be  Mr.  Tottenham, 
of  Ballycarny,  County  Wexford,  covered  with  mud,  and 
wearing  a pair  of  huge  jack-boots  ! Having  heard  that  the 
question  was  likely  to  come  on  sooner  than  he  expected,  he 
had,  lest  he  should  not  be  in  time,  mounted  his  horse  at 
Ballycarny,  set  off  in  the  night,  ridden  nearly  sixty  miles  up 
to  the  Parliament  House  direct,  and  rushed  in,  without 
washing  or  cleaning  himself,  to  vote  for  the  country . He 
arrived  just  at  the  critical  moment ! and  critical  it  was,  for 
the  numbers  were  in  truth  equal , and  his  casting  vote  gave  a 
majority  of  one  to  “ the  country  ” party. 

This  anecdote  could  not  die  while  the  Irish  Parliament 
lived  ; and  I recollect  “ Tottenham  in  his  boots  ” remaining 
down  to  a very  late  period  a standing  toast  at  certain 
patriotic  Irish  tables. 

Being  on  the  topic,  and,  I confess,  to  me  it  is  still  an 
interesting  one,  I must  remark  a singular  practical  distinction 
in  the  rules  of  the  Irish  and  English  Houses  of  Commons. 
In  England  the  House  is  cleared  of  strangers  for  every 
division,  and  no  person  is  supposed  to  see  or  know  in  what 
way  the  representatives  of  the  people  exercise  their  trust. 
In  Ireland,  on  the  contrary,  the  divisions  wer^public,  and 
red  and  black  lists  were  immediately  published  of  the  voters 
on  every  important  occasion.  The  origin  of  this  distinction 
I cannot  explain,  but  it  must  be  owned  that  the  Irish  was 
the  more  constitutional  practice. 

One  interesting  scene  at  which  I was  present  merits 
especial  description  on  many  accounts.  No  other  instance 
of  the  kind  has  occurred  in  the  British  Empire  in  my  time, 
and  as  it  forms  a very  important  record  with  relation  to  the 
independent  political  state  of  Ireland  at  the  period,  and  has 
not  yet  been  made  the  subject  of  any  historical  detail  or 
observation,  it  cannot  fail  to  be  interesting  in  every  point 
of  view.  I allude  to  the  trial  of  a peer  of  the  realm  of 


124 


BARRINGTON’S  RECOLLECTIONS. 


Ireland  for  murder,  by  the  House  of  Lords  in  Dublin,  after 
the  acknowledgment  of  Irish  independence. 

The  grand  and  awful  solemnity  of  that  trial  made  a deep 
impression  on  my  memory,  and,  coupled  with  the  recol- 
lection that  it  proclaimed  indisputably  the  sovereignty  of  the 
Irish  nation,  its  effect  on  a contemplative  mind  was  of  a 
penetrating  nature. 

Robert  Earl  of  Kingston  stood  charged  with  the  murder 
of  Colonel  Fitzgerald,  by  shooting  him  in  his  bed-chamber. 
The  relation  of  the  circumstances  of  that  event  would  be  in 
every  point  of  view  improper,  and  would  only  serve  to  recall 
painful  recollections  long  since  sunk  into  oblivion.  I, 
therefore,  abstain  from  any  further  allusion  to  them.  Justice 
required  the  trial  of  the  accused  party  at  the  bar  of  his  peers  ; 
but  as  no  similar  case  had  occurred  in  Ireland  within  the 
memory  of  man,  it  was  requisite  to  consult  precedents  upon 
the  subject,  in  order  to  render  his  lordship’s  trial  comfortable 
to  the  Lex  Parliamentaria  common  to  both  countries. 
These  precedents  were  accordingly  sought  by  the  proper 
officers  ; and  as  his  lordship  was  very  popular,  and  his 
provocation  maddening,  and  as  all  were  ignorant  of  the 
evidence  which  was  to  be  brought  forward,  the  whole 
affair  was  of  a most  exciting  nature  to  every  man,  more 
especially  to  those  individuals  who  possessed  the  noble 
lord’s  acquaintance. 

Owing  to  the  great  number  of  attendants,  the  full  muster 
of  peers,  and  the  extensive  preparations  of  every  kind  neces- 
sary in  order  to  adhere  to  precedent,  the  House  of  Lords  was 
supposed  to  be  insufficiently  large  for  the  occasion. 

The  Irish  House  of  Peers  was  considered  one  of  the  most 
beautiful  and  commodious  chambers  possible.  It  combined 
every  appearance  of  dignity  and  comfort  ; the  walls  were 
covered  with  tapestry,  representing  the  battle  of  the  Boyne, 
and  the  entire  coup  cToeil  was  grand  and  interesting  ; but 
being,  as  I have  said,  considered  too  small  for  all  the  purposes 


SINGULAR  CUSTOMS  IN  THE  IRISH  PARLIAMENT.  1 25 

of  the  trial  in  question,  the  House  of  Commons  was  mad 
ready  in  preference. 

Whoever  had  seen  the  interior  of  the  Irish  House  of 
Commons  must  have  admired  it  as  one  of  the  most  chaste 
and  classic  models  of  architecture.  A perfect  rotunda,  with 
Ionic  pilasters,  enclosed  a corridor  which  ran  round  the 
interior.  The  cupola,  of  immense  height,  bestowed  a 
magnificence  which  could  rarely  be  surpassed  ; whilst  a 
gallery,  supported  by  columns  divided  into  compartments, 
and  accommodating  700  spectators,  commanded  an  unin- 
terrupted view  of  the  chamber. 

This  gallery  on  every  important  debate  was  filled,  not  by 
reporters,  but  by  the  superior  orders  of  society,  the  first  rows 
being  generally  occupied  by  ladies  of  fashion  and  rank,  who 
diffused  a brilliance  over  and  excited  a gallant  decorum  in 
that  assembly  which  the  British  House  certainly  does  not 
appear  very  sedulously  to  cultivate. 

This  fine  chamber  was  now  fitted  up  in  such  a way  as  to 
give  it  the  most  solemn  aspect.  One  compartment  of  seats 
in  the  body  of  the  House  was  covered  with  scarlet  cloth, 
and  appropriated  to  the  peeresses  and  their  daughters,  who 
ranged  themselves  according  to  the  table  of  precedence. 
The  Commons,  their  families  and  friends,  lined  the  galleries  ; 
the  whole  House  was  superbly  carpeted,  and  the  Speaker’s 
chair  newly  adorned  for  the  Lord  Chancellor.  On  the 
whole,  it  was  by  far  the  most  impressive  and  majestic 
spectacle  ever  exhibited  within  those  walls. 

At  length  the  peers  entered,  according  to  their  rank,  in 
full  dress,  and  richly  robed.  Each  man  took  his  seat  in 
profound  silence,  and  even  the  ladies,  which  was  rather 
extraordinary,  were  likewise  still.  The  Chancellor,  bearing 
a white  wand,  having  taken  his  chair,  the  most  interesting 
moment  of  all  was  at  hand,  and  its  approach  really  made  me 
shudder. 

Sir  Chichester  Fortescue,  king-at-arms,  in  his  party- 


126  Barrington’s  recollections. 

coloured  robe,  entered  first,  carrying  the  armorial  bearings 
of  the  accused  nobleman  emblazoned  on  his  shield — he 
placed  himself  on  the  left  of  the  bar.  Next  entered  Lord 
Kingston  himself  in  deep  mourning,  moving  with  a slow  and 
melancholy  step.  His  eyes  were  fixed  on  the  ground,  and 
walking  up  to  the  bar,  he  was  placed  next  to  the  king-at- 
arms,  who  then  held  his  armorial  shield  on  a level  with  his 
shoulder. 

The  supposed  executioner  then  approached,  bearing  a 
large  hatchet  with  an  immense  broad  blade.  It  was  painted 
black,  except  within  about  two  inches  of  the  edge,  which 
was  of  bright  polished  steel.  Placing  himself  at  the  bar  on 
the  right  of  the  prisoner,  he  raised  the  hatchet  about  as  high 
as  his  lordship’s  neck,  but  with  the  shining  edge  averted,  and 
thus  he  remained  during  the  whole  of  the  trial.  The  forms, 
I understood,  prescribed  that  the  shining  edge  should  be 
averted  until  the  pronouncing  of  judgment,  when,  if  it  were 
unfavourable,  the  blade  was  instantly  to  be  turned  by  the 
executioner  towards  the  prisoner,  indicating  at  once  his 
sentence  and  his  fate. 

I could  not  reconcile  my  mind  to  the  thought  of  such  a 
consummation.  I knew  the  late  Lord  Kingston,  and  had  a 
high  regard  for  him,  and  hence  I felt  a very  uneasy  sensa- 
tion, inasmuch  as  I tvas  profoundly  ignorant  of  what  would 
be  the  termination  of  the  awful  scene. 

The  usual  legal  ceremonies  were  now  entered  on  ; the 
charge  was  read,  the  prisoner  pleaded  not  guilty,  and  the 
trial  proceeded.  A proclamation  was  made,  first  generally, 
then  name  by  name,  for  the  witnesses  for  the  prosecution  to 
come  forward.  It  is  not  easy  to  describe  the  anxiety  and 
suspense  excited  as  each  name  was  called  over.  The  eyes 
of  everybody  were  directed  to  the  bar  where  the  witnesses 
must  enter,  and  every  little  movement  of  the  persons  who 
thronged  it  was  held  to  be  intended  to  make  room  for  some 
accuser.  None,  however,  appeared  ; thrice  they  were 


SINGULAR  CUSTOMS  IN  THE  IRISH  PARLIAMENT.  1 27 


called,  but  in  vain,  and  it  was  then  announced  that  “ no 
witnesses  appearing  to  substantiate  the  charge  of  murder 
against  Robert  Earl  of  Kingston,  the  trial  should  terminate  in 
the  accustomed  manner.”  The  Chancellor  proceeded  to  put 
the  question,  and  every  peer,  according  to  his  rank,  arose, 
and,  deliberately  walking  by  the  chair  in  which  the  Chancel- 
lor was  seated,  placed  his  hand  as  he  passed  solemnly  on  his 
heart,  and  repeated,  “ Not  guilty,  upon  my  honour  ! ” 
(The  bishops  were,  very  properly,  precluded  from  voting  in 
these  criminal  cases.)  After  all  had  passed,  which  ceremony 
occupied  an  hour,  the  Chancellor  rose  and  declared  the 
opinion  of  the  peers  of  Ireland — “ That  Robert  Earl  of 
Kingston  was  not  guilty  of  the  charge  against  him.”  His 
lordship  then  broke  his  wand,  descended  from  his  chair,  and 
thus  ended  the  trial — most  interesting  because  it  had  at  once 
a strong  political  and  constitutional  bearing,  and  affected  a 
nobleman  universally  beloved.  The  result  was  highly 
satisfactory  to  everyone  who  had  learned  the  circumstances 
which  led  to  the  fatal  event  for  which  the  Earl  of  Kingston 
was  arraigned,  whose  conduct,  though  strictly  justifiable 
neither  in  law  nor  morality,  might  have  been  adopted  by  the 
best  of  men  under  similar  provocation. 


128 


Barrington’s  recollections. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

THE  SEVEN  BARONETS. 

Amongst  those  parliamentary  gentlemen  frequently  to  be 
found  in  the  coffee-room  of  the  House  were  certain  baronets, 
of  very  singular  character,  who,  until  some  division  called 
them  to  vote,  passed  the  intermediate  time  in  high  con- 
viviality. Sir  John  Stuart  Hamilton,  a man  of  small  fortune 
and  large  stature,  possessing  a most  liberal  appetite  both  for 
solids  and  fluids,  much  wit,  more  humour,  and  indefatigable 
cheerfulness,  might  be  regarded  as  their  leader. 

Sir  Richard  Musgrave,  who,  except  on  the  abstract  topics 
of  politics,  religion,  martial  law,  his  wife,  the  Pope,  the 
Pretender,  the  Jesuits,  Napper  Tandy,  and  the  whipping- 
post, was  generally  in  his  senses,  formed  during  those 
intervals  a very  entertaining  addition  to  the  company. 

Sir  Edward  Newnham,  member  for  Dublin  county, 
afforded  a whimsical  variety  by  the  affectation  of  early  and 
exclusive  transatlantic  intelligence.  By  repeatedly  writing 
letters  of  congratulation,  he  had  at  length  extorted  a reply 
from  General  Washington,  which  he  exhibited  upon  every 
occasion,  giving  it  to  be  understood  by  significant  nods 
that  he  knew  vastly  more  than  he  thought  proper  to  com- 
municate. 

Sir  Vesey  Colclough,  member  for  County  Wexford,  who 
understood  books  and  wine  better  than  any  of  the  party, 
had  all  his  days  treated  money  so  extremely  ill  that  it  would 
continue  no  longer  in  his  service  ! and  the  dross,  as  he 
termed  it,  having  entirely  forsaken  him,  he  bequeathed  an 
immense  landed  property,  during  his  life,  to  the  uses  of 
custodiums,  elegits,  and  judgments,  which  never  fail  to  place 
a gentleman’s  acres  under  the  especial  guardianship  of  the 


THE  SEVEN  BARONETS. 


129 


attorneys.  He  was  father  to  that  excellent  man,  John 
Colclough,  who  was  killed  at  Wexford,  and  to  the  present 
Caesar  Colclough,  whose  fall  might  probably  have  afforded 
rather  less  cause  of  regret. 

Sir  Vesey  added  much  to  the  pleasantry  of  the  party  by 
occasionally  forcing  on  them  deep  subjects  of  literature,  of 
which  few  of  his  companions  could  make  either  head  or 
tail  ; but  to  avoid  the  imputation  of  ignorance,  they 
often  gave  the  most  ludicrous  proofs  of  it  on  literary  sub- 
jects, geography  and  astronomy,  with  which  he  eternally 
bored  them. 

Sir  Frederick  Flood,  also  member  for  County  Wexford, 
whose  exhibitions  in  the  Imperial  Parliament  have  made 
him  tolerably  well  known  in  England,  was  very  different  in 
his  habits  from  the  last-mentioned  baronet,  bis  love  of  money 
and  spirit  of  ostentation  never  losing  their  hold  throughout 
every  action  of  his  life.  He  was  but  a second-rate  blunderer 
in  Ireland.  The  bulls  of  Sir  Boyle  Roche,  of  whom  we  shall 
speak  hereafter,  generally  involved  aphorisms  of  sound  sense, 
whilst  Sir  Frederick's,  on  the  other  hand,  possessed  the 
qualification  of  being  pure  nonsense. 

He  was  a pretty , dapper  man,  very  good-tempered,  and 
had  a droll  habit,  of  which  he  could  never  effectually  break 
himself,  at  least  in  Ireland  ; whenever  a person  at  his  back 
whispered  or  suggested  anything  to  him  whilst  he  was 
speaking  in  public,  without  a moment's  reflection  he  almost 
always  involuntarily  repeated  the  suggestion  literatim . 

Sir  Frederick  was  once  making  a long  speech  in  the  Irish 
Parliament,  lauding  the  transcendent  merits  of  the  Wexford 
magistracy,  on  a motion  for  extending  the  criminal  juris- 
diction in  that  county,  to  keep  down  the  disaffected.  As  he 
was  closing  a most  turgid  oration,  by  declaring  “ that  the  said 
magistracy  ought  to  receive  some  signal  mark  of  the  Lord 
Lieutenant's  favour  "—John  Egan,  who  was  rather  mellow, 
and  sitting  behind  him,  jocularly  whispered,  “ And  be 

(d.  311) 


K 


130  Barrington’s  recollections. 

whipped  at  the  cart’s  tail  ” — “ And  be  whipped  at  the 
cart’s  tail  ! ” repeated  Sir  Frederick  unconsciously,  amidst 
peals  of  the  most  uncontrollable  laughter. 

Sir  John  Blacquiere  flew  at  higher  game  than  the  other 
baronets,  though  he  occasionally  fell  into  the  trammels  of 
Sir  John  Hamilton.  Sir  John  Blacquiere  was  a little  deaf 
of  one  ear,  for  which  circumstance  he  gave  a very  singular 
reason  ; his  seat,  when  secretary,  was  the  outside  one  on  the 
treasury  bench,  next  to  a gangway  ; and  he  said  that  so 
many  members  used  to  come  perpetually  to  whisper  him, 
and  the  buzz  of  importunity  was  so  heavy  and  continous, 
that  before  one  claimant’s  words  had  got  out  of  his  ear,  the 
demand  of  another  forced  its  way  in,  till  the  ear-drum,  being 
overcharged,  absolutely  burst  ! which  he  said  turned  out 
conveniently  enough,  as  he  was  then  obliged  to  stuff  the 
organ  tight,  and  tell  every  gentleman  that  his  physician  had 
directed  him  not  to  use  that  ear  at  all,  and  the  other  as  little 
as  possible  ! 

Sir  John  Stuart  Hamilton  played  him  one  day,  in  the 
corridor  of  the  House  of  Commons,  a trick  which  was  a 
source  of  great  entertainment  to  all  parties.  Joseph  Hughes, 
a country  farmer  and  neighbour  of  Sir  John  Stuart  Hamilton, 
who  knew  nothing  of  great  men,  and,  in  common  with  many 
remote  farmers  of  that  period,  had  very  seldom  been  in 
Dublin,  was  hard  pressed  to  raise  some  money  to  pay  the 
fine  on  a renewal  of  a bishop’s  lease,  his  only  property.  He 
came  directly  to  Sir  John,  who,  I believe,  had  himself  drunk 
the  farmer’s  spring  pretty  dry,  whilst  he  could  get  anything 
out  of  it.  As  they  were  standing  together  in  one  of  the 
corridors  of  the  Parliament  House,  Sir  John  Blacquiere 
stopped  to  say  something  to  his  brother  baronet — his  star, 
which  he  frequently  wore  on  rather  shabby  coats,  struck  the 
farmer’s  eye,  who  had  never  seen  such  a thing  before,  and 
coupling  it  with  the  very  black  visage  of  the  wearer,  and  his 
peculiar  appearance  altogether,  our  rustic  was  induced 


THE  SEVEN  BARONETS. 


171 


humbly  to  ask  Sir  John  Hamilton  “ who  that  man  was  with 
the  silver  sign  on  his  coat  ? ” 

“ Don’t  you  know  him  ? ” cried  Sir  John  ; “ why,  that  is 
a famous  Jew  money-broker.” 

“ Maybe,  please  your  honour,  he  could  do  my  little 
business  for  me,”  responded  the  honest  farmer. 

“ Trial’s  all  ! ” said  Sir  John. 

“ I’ll  pay  well,”  observed  Joseph. 

“ That’s  precisely  what  he  likes,”  replied  the  baronet. 

“ Pray,  Sir  John,”  continued  the  farmer,  “ what’s  those 
words  on  his  sign  ? ” alluding  to  the  motto  on  his  star. 

“ Oh,”  answered  the  other,  “ they  are  Latin,  ‘ Triajnncta 
in  uno .’  ” 

“ And  may  I crave  the  English  thereof  ? ” asked  the  un- 
suspecting countryman. 

“ Three  in  a bond,”  said  Sir  John. 

“ Then  I can  match  him,  by  J — s,”  exclaimed  Hughes. 

“You'll  be  hard  set,”  cried  the  malicious  baronet  ; 
“ however,  you  may  try.” 

Hughes  then  approaching  Blacquiere,  who  had  removed 
but  a very  small  space,  told  him  with  great  civility  and  a 
significant  nod  that  he  had  a little  matter  to  mention,  which 
he  trusted  would  be  agreeable  to  both  parties.  Blacquiere 
drew  him  aside  and  desired  him  to  proceed.  “To  come  to 
the  point  then,  at  once,”  said  Hughes,  “ the  money  is  not  to 
say  a great  deal,  and  I can  give  you  three  in  a bond,  myself 
and  two  good  men  as  any  in  Cavan,  along  with  me.  I hope 
that  will  answer  you.  Three  in  a bond  ! safe  good  men.” 

Sir  John,  who  wanted  a supply  himself,  had  the  day  before 
sent  to  a person  who  had  advertised  the  lending  of  money  ; 
and  on  hearing  the  above  harangue,  taking  for  granted  that 
it  resulted  from  his  own  application,  he  civilly  assured 
Hughes  that  a bond  would  be  of  no  use  to  him  ! good  bills 
might  be  negotiated,  or  securities  turned  into  cash,  though 
<it  a loss,  but  bonds  would  not  answer  at  all. 


132 


Barrington’s  recollections. 


“ I think  I can  get  another  man,  and  that’s  one  more  than 
your  sign  requires,”  said  Hughes. 

“ I tell  you,”  repeated  Sir  John,  “ bonds  will  not  answer 
at  all,  sir  ! — bills,  bills  ! ” 

“ Then  it’s  fitter,”  retorted  the  incensed  farmer,  “ for  you 
to  be  after  putting  your  sign  there  in  your  pocket,  than 
wearing  it  to  deceive  the  Christians,  you  d — d usurer  ! you 
Jew,  you  ! ” 

Nobody  could  be  more  amused  by  this  denouement  than 
Blacquiere  himself,  who  told  everybody  he  knew  of 
“ Hamilton’s  trick  upon  the  countryman .” 

Sir  Richard  Musgrave,  although  he  understood  drawing 
the  long  bow  as  well  as  most  people,  never  patronised  it  in 
any  other  individual.  Sir  John  Hamilton  did  not  spare  the 
exercise  of  this  accomplishment  in  telling  a story  one  day  in 
the  presence  of  Sir  Richard,  who  declared  his  incredulity 
rather  abruptly,  as  indeed  was  his  constant  manner.  Sir 
John  was  much  nettled  at  the  mode  in  which  the  other 
dissented,  more  particularly  as  there  were  some  strangers 
present.  He  asseverated  the  truth  on  his  word!  Sir 
Richard,  however,  repeating  his  disbelief,  Sir  John 
Hamilton  furiously  exclaimed — “ You  say  you  don’t 
believe  my  word  ! ” 

“ I can't  believe  it,”  replied  Sir  Richard. 

“ Well,  then,”  said  Sir  John,  “ if  you  won’t  believe  my 
word , by  G — d I’ll  give  it  you  under  my  hand ,”  clenching  at 
the  same  moment  his  great  fist. 

The  witticism  raised  a general  laugh,  in  which  the  parties 
themselves  joined,  and  in  a moment  all  was  good  humour. 
But  the  company  condemned  both  the  offenders — Sir  John 
for  telling  a lie,  and  Sir  Richard  for  not  believing  it — to  the 
payment  of  two  bottles  of  hock  each. 

Whoever  the  following  story  may  be  fathered  on,  Sir  John 
Hamilton  was  certainly  its  parent.  The  Duke  of  Rutland, 
at  one  of  his  levees,  being  at  a loss,  as  probably  most  kings, 


THE  SEVEN  BARONETS. 


133 


princes,  and  viceroys  occasionally  are,  for  something  to  say 
to  every  person  he  was  bound  in  etiquette  to  notice, 
remarked  to  Sir  John  Hamilton  that  there  was  “ a prospect 
of  an  excellent  crop  ; the  timely  rain,”  observed  the  Duke, 
“ will  bring  everything  above  ground.” 

“ God  forbid,  your  Excellency  ! ” exclaimed  the  courtier. 

His  Excellency  stared,  whilst  Sir  John  continued,  sighing 
heavily  as  he  spoke,  “ Yes,  God  forbid  ! for  I have  got  three 
wives  under  it.” 

At  one  of  those  large  convivial  parties  which  distinguished 
the  table  of  Major  Hobart,  when  he  was  secretary  in  Ireland, 
amongst  the  usual  loyal  toasts,  “ The  wooden  walls  of 
England,”  being  given,  Sir  John  Hamilton,  in  his  turn,  gave 
“ The  wooden  walls  of  Ireland  ! ” This  toast  being  quite 
new  to  us  all,  he  was  asked  for  an  explanation  ; upon  which, 
filling  a bumper,  he  very  gravely  stood  up,  and  bowing  to 
the  Marquess  of  Waterford  and  several  country  gentlemen, 
who  commanded  county  regiments,  he  said — “ My  lords 
and  gentlemen,  I have  the  pleasure  of  giving  you  ‘ The 
wooden  walls  of  Ireland  ’ — the  colonels  of  militia  ! ” 

So  broad  but  so  good-humoured  a jeu  (Tesprit  excited 
great  merriment  ; the  truth  was  forgotten  in  the  jocularity, 
but  the  epithet  did  not  perish.  I saw  only  one  grave 
countenance  in  the  room,  and  that  belonged  to  the  late 
Marquess  of  Waterford,  who  was  the  proudest  egotist  I ever 
met  with.  He  had  a tremendous  squint,  nor  was  there  any- 
thing prepossessing  in  the  residue  of  his  features  to  atone 
for  that  deformity.  Nothing  can  better  exemplify  his  lord- 
ship’s opinion  of  himself  and  others,  than  an  observation 
I heard  him  make  at  Lord  Portarlington’s  table.  Having 
occasion  for  a superlative  degree  of  comparison  between  two 
persons,  he  was  at  a loss  for  a climax.  At  length,  however, 
he  luckily  hit  on  one.  “ That  man  was,”  said  the  Marquess, 
“ he  was  as  superior  as — as — as — I am  to  Lord  Ranelagh  ! ” 

I will  now  advert  to  Sir  Boyle  Roche,  who  certainly  was, 


*34 


Barrington’s  recollections. 


without  exception,  the  most  celebrated  and  entertaining 
anti-grammarian  in  the  Irish  Parliament.  I knew  him 
intimately.  He  was  of  a very  respectable  Irish  family, 
and,  in  point  of  appearance,  a fine,  bluff,  solderlike  old 
gentleman.  He  had  numerous  good  qualities  ; and  having 
been  long  in  the  army,  his  ideas  were  full  of  honour  and 
etiquette,  of  discipline  and  bravery.  He  had  a claim  to  the 
title  of  Fermoy,  which,  however,  he  never  pursued  ; and  was 
brother  to  the  famous  Tiger  Roche,  who  fought  some 
desperate  duel  abroad,  and  was  near  being  hanged  for  it. 
Sir  Boyle  was  perfectly  well  bred  in  all  his  habits  ; had  been 
appointed  gentleman-usher  at  the  Irish  Court,  and  executed 
the  duties  of  that  office  to  the  day  of  his  death  with  the 
utmost  satisfaction  to  himself  as  well  as  to  everyone  in 
connection  with  him.  He  was  married  to  the  eldest  daughter 
of  Sir  John  Cave,  Bart.  ; and  his  lady,  who  was  a has  bleu , 
prematurely  injured  Sir  Boyle’s  capacity,  it  was  said,  by 
forcing  him  to  read  Gibbon’s  Rise  and  Fall  of  the  Roman 
Empire , whereat  he  was  so  cruelly  puzzled,  without  being 
in  the  least  amused,  that  in  his  cups  he  often  stigmatised 
the  great  historian  as  a low  fellow,  who  ought  to  have 
been  kicked  out  of  company  wherever  he  was,  for  turning 
people’s  thoughts  away  from  their  prayers  and  their  politics 
to  what  the  devil  himself  could  make  neither  head  nor 
tail  of ! 

His  perpetually  bragging  that  Sir  John  Cave  had  given 
him  his  eldest  daughter,  afforded  Curran  an  opportunity  of 
replying — “ Ay,  Sir  Boyle,  and  depend  on  it,  if  he  had  had 
an  older  one  still  he  would  have  given  her  to  you.”  Sir 
Boyle  thought  it  best  to  receive  the  repartee  as  a compli- 
ment, lest  it  should  come  to  her  ladyship’s  ears,  who,  for 
several  years  back,  had  prohibited  Sir  Boyle  from  all  allu- 
sions to  chronology. 

This  baronet  had  certainly  one  great  advantage  over  all 
other  bull  and  blunder  makers  : he  seldom  launched  a 


THE  SEVEN  BARONETS. 


*35 


blunder  from  which  some  fine  aphorism  or  maxim  might 
not  be  easily  extracted.  When  a debate  arose  in  the  Irish 
House  of  Commons  on  the  vote  of  a grant  which  was  recom- 
mended by  Sir  John  Parnell,  Chancellor  of  the  Exchequer, 
as  one  not  likely  to  be  felt  burthensome  for  many  years  to 
come,  it  was  observed  in  reply  that  the  House  had  no  just 
right  to  load  posterity  with  a weighty  debt  for  what  could  in 
no  degree  operate  to  their  advantage.  Sir  Boyle,  eager  to 
defend  the  measures  of  Government,  immediately  rose,  and 
in  a few  words  put  forward  the  most  unanswerable  argument 
which  human  ingenuity  could  possibly  devise.  “ What,  Mr. 
Speaker  ! ” said  he,  “ and  so  we  are  to  beggar  ourselves  for 
fear  of  vexing  posterity  ! Now,  I would  ask  the  honourable 
gentleman,  and  this  still  more  honourable  House,  why  we 
should  put  ourselves  out  of  our  way  to  do  anything  for 
posterity  ! for  what  has  posterity  done  for  us?  ” 

Sir  Boyle  hearing  the  roar  of  laughter  which,  of  course, 
followed  this  sensible  blunder,  but  not  being  conscious  that 
he  had  said  anything  out  of  the  way,  was  rather  puzzled, 
and  conceived  that  the  House  had  misunderstood  him. 
He,  therefore,  begged  leave  to  explain,  as  he  apprehended 
that  gentlemen  had  entirely  mistaken  his  words  ; he  assured 
the  House  “ that  by  posterity  he  did  not  at  all  mean  our 
ancestors , but  those  who  were  to  come  immediately  after 
them”  Upon  hearing  this  explanation , it  was  impossible  to 
do  any  serious  business  for  half  an  hour. 

Sir  Boyle  Roche  was  induced  by  Government  to  fight  as 
hard  as  possible  for  the  Union — so  he  did,  and  I really 
believe  fancied  by  degrees  that  he  was  right.  On  one 
occasion  a general  titter  arose  at  his  florid  picture  of  the 
happiness  which  must  proceed  from  this  event.  “ Gentle- 
men,said  Sir  Boyle,  “ may  titther,  and  titther,  and  titther, 
and  may  think  it  a bad  measure  ; but  their  heads  at  present 
are  hot,  and  will  so  remain  till  they  grow  cool  again  ; 
and  so  they  can’t  decide  right  now  ; but  when  the  day  of 


136 


Barrington’s  recollections. 


judgment  comes,  then  honourable  gentlemen  will  be  satisfied 
at  this  most  excellent  Union.  Sir,  there  is  no  Levitical 
decrees  between  nations,  and  on  this  occasion  I can  see 
neither  sin  nor  shame  in  marrying  our  own  sister  ” 

He  was  a determined  enemy  to  the  French  Revolution, 
and  seldom  rose  in  the  House  for  several  years  without 
volunteering  some  abuse  of  it.  “ Mr.  Speaker,”  said  he, 
in  a mood  of  this  kind,  “ if  we  once  permitted  the  villainous 
French  masons  to  meddle  with  the  buttresses  and  walls  of 
our  ancient  constitution,  they  would  never  stop  nor  stay, 
Sir,  till  they  brought  the  foundation-stones  tumbling  down 
about  the  ears  of  the  nation  ! There,”  continued  Sir  Boyle, 
placing  his  hand  earnestly  on  his  heart,  his  powdered  head 
shaking  in  unison  with  his  loyal  zeal,  whilst  he  described 
the  probable  consequences  of  an  invasion  of  Ireland  by  the 
French  republicans  ; “ there,  Mr.  Speaker  ! if  those 

Gallican  villains  should  invade  us,  Sir,  ’tis  on  that  very  table , 
maybe,  these  honourable  members  might  see  their  own 
destinies  lying  in  heaps  atop  of  one  another  ! Here,  perhaps, 
Sir,  the  murderous  marshal-law -men,  Marseillois,  would 
break  in,  cut  us  to  mincemeat,  and  throw  our  bleeding  heads 
upon  that  table,  to  stare  us  in  the  face  ! ” 

Sir  Boyle  on  another  occasion  was  arguing  for  the  Habeas 
Corpus  Suspension  Bill  in  Ireland.  “ It  would  surely  be 
better,  Mr.  Speaker,”  said  he,  “ to  give  up  not  only  a part , 
but,  if  necessary,  even  the  whole  of  our  constitution  to 
preserve  the  remainder  ! ” 

This  baronet  having  been  one  of  the  Irish  Parliamentary 
curiosities  before  the  Union,  I have  only  exemplified  his 
mode  of  blundering,  as  many  ridiculous  sayings  have  been 
attributed  to  him.  He  blundered  certainly  more  than  any 
public  speaker  in  Ireland  ; but  his  bulls  were  rather  logical 
perversions,  and  had  some  strong  point  in  most  of  them. 

The  English  people  consider  a bull  as  nothing  more  than 
a vulgar  nonsensical  expression  ; but  Irish  blunders  are 


THE  SEVEN  BARONETS. 


137 


frequently  humorous  hyperboles  or  oxymorons , and  present 
very  often  the  most  energetic  mode  of  expressing  the 
speaker’s  meaning. 

On  the  motion  to  expel  Lord  Edward  Fitzgerald  from 
the  House  of  Commons,  for  hasty  disrespectful  expressions 
regarding  the  House  and  the  Lord  Lieutenant,  it  was 
observable  that  the  motion  was  violently  supported  by  the 
younger  men  then  in  Parliament,  including  the  late  Marquess 
of  Ormonde,  etc.  The  Marquess  was,  indeed,  one  of  the 
strongest  supporters  of  a measure  the  object  of  which  was 
to  disgrace  a young  nobleman,  his  own  equal  ; and  it  was 
likewise  worthy  of  remark  that  the  motion  was  resisted  by 
the  steadiest  and  oldest  members  of  the  House. 

Sir  Boyle  Roche  laboured  hard  and  successfully  for  Lord 
Edward,  who  was  eventually  required  to  make  an  apology  ; 
it  was  not,  however,  considered  sufficiently  ample  or  repent- 
ant. Sir  Boyle  was  at  his  wit’s  end,  and  at  length  produced 
a natural  syllogism,  which,  by  putting  the  House  in  good 
humour,  did  more  than  a host  of  reasoners  could  have 
achieved.  “ Mr.  Speaker,”  said  the  baronet,  “ I think  the 
noble  young  man  has  no  business  to  make  any  apology. 
He  is  a gentleman,  and  none  such  should  be  asked  to  make 
an  apology , because  no  gentleman  could  mean  to  give  offence.” 

Dennis  McCarthy,  the  postilion  of  Lord  Lisle,  had  an 
action  for  crim.  con.  brought  against  him  by  his  master, 
and  upon  a very  forced  construction  of  the  law  in  such 
cases  by  the  Chief  Baron,  the  jury  found  damages  for 
£5,000  against  Dennis.  He  was,  of  course,  sent  to  gaol, 
and  damages  to  that  amount,  and  of  that  nature,  excluding 
the  debtor  from  the  benefit  of  the  Insolvent  Act,  strong 
efforts  were  made  in  Parliament  to  have  Dennis  included 
especially  by  name  in  the  statute,  he  having  remained  ten 
years  in  close  confinement.  His  liberation  was  constantly 
applied  for,  and  as  constantly  rejected.  Sir  Boyle,  as  a last 
effort,  made  a florid  speech  in  his  best  style  on  behalf  of  the 


Barrington’s  recollections. 


138 

poor  fellow,  arguing  truly  “ that  Lady  Lisle,  and  not  Dennis, 
must  have  been  the  real  seducer  ” ; and  concluding  thus — 
“ And  what,  Mr.  Speaker,  was  this  poor  servant’s  crime  ? 
After  all,  sure,  Mr.  Speaker,  it  was  only  doing  his  master's 
business  by  his  mistress's  orders , and  is  it  not  very  hard  to  keep 
a poor  servant  in  gaol  for  that  which  if  he  had  not  done  he 
would  have  deserved  a horsewhipping  ? ” This  way  of 
putting  the  case  had  the  desired  effect — Dennis’s  name  was 
especially  included  by  the  Commons  ; but  in  the  House  of 
Lords  it  was  thrown  out  by  Lord  Clonmell,  Chief  Justice, 
though  two  years  had  scarcely  elapsed  since  his  lordship 
himself  had  fought  a duel  with  the  late  Lord  Tyrawley  for 
crim.  con . with  her  ladyship. 

Never  was  there  a more  sensible  blunder  than  the  following. 
We  recommend  it  as  a motto  to  gentlemen  in  the  army : 

“ The  best  way,”  said  Sir  Boyle,  “ to  avoid  danger  is  to 
meet  it  plump." 


ENTRANCE  INTO  OFFICE. 


139 


CHAPTER  XVI L 

ENTRANCE  INTO  OFFICE. 

In  December,  1793,  the  secretary,  Lord  Buckinghamshire, 
wrote  to  say  that  he  wished  to  see  me  at  the  Castle.  I 
immediatley  attended,  when  he  said,  “ Barrington,  I am 
about  to  depart  from  Ireland,  and,”  continued  he,  after  my 
sincere  expressions  of  regret,  “ as  you  have  heretofore  had 
nothing  from  us  but  convivial  intercourse,  it  is  just  you 
should  now  have  fare,  somewhat  more  substantial  ; with  the 
approbation  of  the  Lord  Lieutenant,  therefore,  I have 
managed  to  secure  for  you  a very  handsome  office — the 
ships’  entries  of  the  Port  of  Dublin.” 

At  the  name  and  nature  of  this  office  I rather  demurred  ; 
whereupon  Lord  Buckinghamshire  smiled  and  said,  “ You 
have  no  objection  to  a good  sinecure,  I suppose,  the 
emoluments  payable  every  Sunday  morning  by  the  deputy 
— the  place  was  lately  held  by  Mr.  George  Ponsonby,  and  is 
at  this  moment  enjoyed  by  Serjeant  Coppinger  ; but  I have 
negotiated  to  give  him,  his  son  and  his  wife,  an  annuity  of 
£ 800  a year,  to  resign  it  to  you.” 

This  so  far  was  agreeable,  but  still  professional  advance- 
ment being  the  object  next  my  heart,  I neither  felt  nor 
looked  totally  satisfied. 

Lord  B then  said,  “ You  are  a grumbling  fellow,  but 

I anticipated  your  grumbling,  and  the  Lord  Chancellor, 
I Lord  Clare,  has  consented  to  your  being  at  the  same  time 
appointed  one  of  the  King’s  Counsel,  thus  at  once  giving 
you  a step  over  the  heads  of  all  your  circuit  seniors,  except 
Sir  Frederick  Flood,  who  is  not,  I fancy,  very  formidable.” 
This  arrangement  altogether  met  my  wishes.  I hastened 
to  Lords  Westmoreland  and  Clare,  to  thank  them  most 


140 


Barrington’s  recollections. 


cordially  ; and  the  fifth  year  after  becoming  a barrister  I 
found  myself  at  the  head  of  my  circuit,  and  high  up  in  the 
official  rank  of  my  profession.  Practice  generally  follows 
the  fortunate  ; I was  immediately  considered  as  on  the  high- 
road of  preferment  ; the  attorneys  pursued  me  like  a flock 
of  rooks  ! and  my  business  was  quadrupled. 

I purchased  a fine  house  in  Merrion  Square  from  Mr. 
Robert  Johnson,  then  counsel  to  the  revenue,  afterwards 
judge,  who  at  that  period  felt  himself  going  down  hill  ; 
and  here  I launched  into  an  absolute  press  of  business, 
perhaps  justly  acquiring  thereby  the  jealousy  of  many  of  my 
seniors.  This  jealousy,  however,  gave  rise  to  one  of  the 
most  gratifying  incidents  of  my  life. 

John  Earl  of  Ormonde  resided  like  a true  Irish  noble- 
man, in  the  utmost  splendour  and  hospitality,  in  his  fine 
ancient  castle  at  Kilkenny.  He  scarcely  ever  went  even  to 
the  Irish  metropolis,  his  entire  fortune  being  expended  in 
his  own  city,  whereby  every  shopkeeper  and  trader  experi- 
enced the  advantages  of  his  lordship’s  residence.  His 
establishment  was  ample,  his  table  profuse,  his  friendship 
warm  and  unbounded.  The  very  appearance  of  his  castle, 
though  only  a portion  of  the  old  Duke’s,  was  still  such  as 
to  remind  the  spectator  of  its  former  magnificence.  Proudly 
towering  over  the  River  Nore,  from  which  it  was  separated 
only  by  the  public  walk,  a high  and  grand  rampart  on  that 
side  conveyed  the  idea  at  once  of  a palace  and  a fortress  ; 
whilst  towards  the  city  an  old  princely  portal,  flanked  by 
round  towers,  opened  into  a spacious  court,  within  which 
were  preserved  two  sides  of  the  original  edifice,  and  a third 
was,  at  the  period  I allude  to,  rebuilding  in  a style,  however, 
far  too  modern  and  ordinary.  The  exterior  mouldings  of  the 
castle  exhibited  the  remains  of  the  gilding  which  had  for- 
merly been  laid  on  with  a lavish  hand. 

The  interior  of  this  noble  edifice,  with  the  exception  of 
one  saloon  and  the  picture-gallery,  was  not  calculated  to 


ENTRANCE  INTO  OFFICE. 


Hi 

satisfy  expectation  ; but  both  these  were  unique — the  one 
with  respect  to  its  form,  the  other  to  its  prospects.  The 
grand  saloon  was  not  shaped  like  any  other,  I believe, 
existing — oval  in  its  figure,  and  not  large  ; but  the  wall, 
twelve  feet  thick,  admitted  of  recesses  on  the  sides,  which 
had  the  appearance  of  small  rooms,  each  being  terminated 
by  a large  window,  and  the  sides  covered  with  mirrors 
which  reflected  the  beautiful  and  varied  prospects  of  the 
city,  country,  wood,  river,  and  public  promenade.  When 
I was  at  the  castle,  in  fact,  everything  appeared  to  me 
delightful. 

Walter,  the  late  Marquess  of  Ormonde,  though  my  junior 
in  years,  had  been  my  intimate  friend  and  companion,  as 
was  also  his  cousin,  Bryan  Cavanagh.  Lady  Ormonde, 
mother  of  Walter,  was  the  only  child  of  Earl  Winderford, 
and  as  lady  of  the  castle  was  careful  to  keep  up  at  least  her 
due  importance.  It  is  not  impossible  for  women  or  men 
either  to  mistake  pomposity  for  dignity.  True  pride  is 
accompanied  by  an  amiable  condescension  ; cold  unbending 
ceremony  is  the  result  of  false  pride,  and  not  of  dignity. 
I thought,  perhaps  erroneously,  that  her  ladyship  made  this 
mistake. 

The  Earl  John,  my  friend’s  father,  was  rather  in  the  oppo- 
site extreme.  He  was  well  read  and  friendly — a hard-goer , 
as  it  was  called,  and  an  incessant  talker.  His  lordship  occa- 
sionally adjourned  to  a kind  of  tavern  in  the  city,  of  which  a 
certain  widow  Madden  was  the  hostess,  and  where  one,  Mr. 
Evans,  surnamed  “ Hell-cat,”  together  with  the  best  boozers 
and  other  gentlemen  of  Kilkenny,  assembled  to  amuse  his 
lordship  by  their  jests  and  warm  punch,  and  to  emulate  each 
other  in  the  devouring  of  oysters  and  lobsters,  the  best  which 
could  possibly  be  procured.  Hither,  in  fact,  the  company 
from  the  castle  were  habituated  often  to  repair. 

These  boozing  matches  sometimes  proceeded  rather  too 
far;  and  one  night  Mr.  Duffy,  a sharp,  smart,  independent- 


142 


Barrington’s  recollections. 


minded  apothecary  of  Kilkenny,  who  had  offended  the 
Ormonde  family  on  some  very  sensitive  point,  being  alluded 
to,  a member  of  the  party,  with  more  zeal  than  prudence, 
proposed  as  a toast,  “ A round  of  rascals  ! ” taking  care  to 
designate  Dr.  Duffy  as  belonging  to  that  honourable 
fraternity.  On  departing  from  the  tavern,  far  more  full  of 
liquor  than  wit,  some  wild  young  man  in  company  suggested 
the  demolition  of  the  doctor’s  windows.  No  sooner  said 
than  done  ! — the  piper  played,  the  stones  flew,  and  Duffy’s 
shivered  panes  bore  ample  testimony  to  the  strength  of  the 
widow’s  beverage.  No  personal  injury,  however,  ensued, 
and  the  affair  appeared  to  have  terminated. 

A glazier  was  sent  early  next  morning  by  command  of  my 
lord  to  repair  the  windows,  but  this  the  doctor  refused  to 
allow,  and  in  due  form  applied  for  and  obtained  a criminal 
information  in  the  King’s  Bench  for  the  outrage,  against 
Lord  Ormonde,  his  son  Walter,  James,  the  present  Marquess, 
Lord  Thurles,  and  others.  The  information  was  in  due 
legal  form  sent  down  to  be  tried  at  the  Spring  Assizes 
very  soon  after  I had  been  appointed  King’s  Counsel. 

None  felt  more  jealousy  at  my  promotion  than  Mr. 
William  Fletcher,  since  Judge  of  the  Common  Pleas,  many 
years  my  senior  at  the  Bar  and  on  circuit.  Lord  Ormonde 
directed  briefs  to  be  sent  to  me  and  to  Fletcher,  with  fees 
of  fifteen  guineas  each.  I never  loved  money  much  in  my 
life,  and,  therefore,  thought  it  quite  enough,  or,  rather,  I did 
not  think  about  it. 

The  defendants’  case  fell,  of  course,  to  me  as  leading 
counsel.  At  this  circumstance  Fletcher  felt  sore  and  ran 
sulky,  and  the  sulkier  he  got  the  more  zealous  became  I. 
We  had  but  a bad  case  of  it  ; the  cross-examination  of  the 
irritated  apothecary,  who  grew  after  awhile  quite  ferocious, 
fell  to  my  lot.  I performed  my  duty,  and  it  then  devolved 
on  Fletcher  to  speak  to  the  evidence.  This,  however,  he 
declined.  I pressed  him,  but  he  peremptorily  refused.  I 


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143 


exclaimed,  “ Nay,  Fletcher,  you  took  a fee  ; why  not 
speak  ? ” — “ Yes,”  answered  the  angry  barrister,  “ just 
enough  to  make  me  hold  my  tongue  ! ” — “ Do  speak,” 
persisted  I — “ I won't”  replied  he — “ Then  I must  do  it 
for  you,”  was  my  rejoinder.  My  zeal  was  enkindled,  my 
mind  was  on  fire,  and  I felt  myself  in  earnest  and  interested. 
I persevered  till  I saw  the  jury  smile,  for  which  purpose 
they  only  wanted  a good  pretence.  I held  on  my  course 
till  I saw  them  pleased,  and  the  result  was  an  acquittal 
of  Lord  Ormonde  and  a conviction  of  all  the  others. 

To  his  lordship  this  acquittal  was  invaluable.  The  con- 
viction of  the  Earl  of  Ormonde  for  a nocturnal  outrage  in  bis 
own  town,  and  his  committal  from  his  castle  to  a prison,  to 
undergo  the  award  of  the  law,  would  have  been  to  him  a 
source  of  the  utmost  dismay.  I knew  this,  and  acted  accord- 
ingly. He  had  heard  of  the  conversation  between  Fletcher 
and  me,  but  he  thanked  both  without  distinction,  and  made 
no  partial  remarks.  I was  hurt  for  a moment  at  this  apparent 
neglect,  but  thought  of  it  no  longer,  and  his  lordship  never 
mentioned  the  circumstance. 

On  the  ensuing  summer  assizes,  Lord  Ormonde  invited 
the  judges,  barristers,  several  of  the  grand  jury,  and  the 
principal  gentlemen  of  the  county,  to  a magnificent  dinner 
at  the  castle.  It  was  a long  table,  and  everything  in  the 
grandest  style.  A judge  sat  on  each  side  of  Lady  Ormonde 
at  the  head,  and  Fletcher  and  myself  were  their  next  neigh- 
bours. After  the  cloth  had  been  removed,  and  Lady 
Ormonde  was  retired,  his  lordship  stood  up,  and  in  a loud 
voice  said,  “ I have  waited  with  impatience  for  this  public 
opportunity  of  expressing  to  Mr.  Barrington  the  high  sense 
I entertain  of  his  important  and  disinterested  services  to  me 
at  the  last  assizes  ; I now  beg  his  acceptance  of  a small 
testimonial  of  my  gratitude  and  friendship.”  And  he 
immediately  slid  along  the  table  a magnificent  gold  snuff-box, 
with  his  arms,  etc.,  and  the  following  inscription  : 


144 


Barrington’s  recollections. 


“ A Token  of  Friendship  and  Gratitude  from  the  Earl  of 
Ormonde  and  Ossory  to  Jonah  Barrington,  Esq.,  one  of  His 
Majesty’s  Counsel  at  Law.  August,  1794.” 

I was  utterly  astonished  by  this  distinguished  and  most 
unexpected  favour  conferred  in  so  public  and  honourable  a 
manner,  and  involuntarily , without  a moment’s  thought,  but 
certainly  with  the  appearance  of  ill-nature,  I triumphantly 
handed  round  the  box  for  the  inspection  of  my  brother 
barristers.  Fletcher,  confused  as  might  be  supposed, 
slightly  shoved  it  back  to  me.  His  conduct  on  the  trial 
having  been  known,  a sensation  became  visible  amongst  the 
company,  which  I would  almost  have  given  up  the  box 
to  have  avoided  exciting.  His  countenance,  however, 
though  not  usually  subject  to  be  much  impressed  by  kind 
feelings,  clearly  acquitted  me  of  any  intentional  insult. 
In  truth,  I really  felt  as  much  as  he  did  when  I perceived 
my  error,  and  wished  to  pocket  the  prize  without  its  creating 
further  notice.  But  this  was  impossible  ; I was  obliged 
to  return  thanks,  which  ceremony  I went  through  very  badly. 
Fletcher  did  not  remain  long,  and  I also  adjourned  at  an 
early  hour  to  the  bar-room,  where  the  incident  had  preceded 
me.  I now  tried  my  best  to  put  all  parties  into  good 
humour,  and  finished  the  night  by  a much  deeper  stoup  of 
wine  than  I should  have  indulged  in  at  Lord  Ormonde’s. 

Next  morning  I found  a billet  from  the  earl,  enveloping  a 
bank-note  for  £ 100 , with  these  words  : 

“ Dear  Sir, 

“ My  attorney  did  not  do  you  justice  ; you  will 
permit  me  to  be  my  own  attorney  on  this  occasion. 

“ Your  friend  and  humble  servant, 

“ Ormonde  and  Ossory.” 


DR.  ACHMET  BORUMBORAD. 


H5 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

DR.  ACHMET  BORUMBORAD. 

Until  England  dragged  the  sister  kingdom  with  herself 
into  the  ruinous  expenses  of  the  American  War,  Ireland 
owed  no  public  debt.  There  were  no  taxes,  save  local  ones  ; 
the  Parliament,  being  composed  of  resident'  gentlemen 
interested  in  the  prosperity  and  welfare  of  their  country, 
was  profuse  in  promoting  all  useful  schemes  ; and  no  pro- 
jector who  could  shew  any  reasonable  grounds  for  seeking 
assistance  had  difficulty  in  finding  a patron.  On  these 
points,  indeed,  the  gentlemen  who  possessed  influence  were 
often  unguarded,  and  sometimes  extravagant. 

Amongst  other  projectors  whose  ingenuity  was  excited  by 
this  liberal  conduct  was  one  of  a very  singular  description 
— a Turk  who  had  come  over,  or,  as  the  on-dit  went,  had 
fled  from  Constantinople.  He  proposed  to  establish,  what 
was  greatly  wanted  at  that  time  in  the  Irish  metropolis, 
“ Hot  and  Cold  Sea-water  Baths  ” ; and  by  way  of  advanc- 
ing his  pretensions  to  public  encouragement,  offered  to  open 
free  baths  for  the  poor  on  an  extensive  plan,  giving  them  as 
a doctor  attendance  and  advice  gratis  every  day  in  the 
year.  He  spoke  English  very  intelligibly  ; his  person  was 
extremely  remarkable  ; and  the  more  so,  as  he  was  the  first 
Turk  who  had  ever  walked  the  streets  of  Dublin  in  his 
native  costume.  He  was  in  height  considerably  above  six 
feet,  rather  pompous  in  his  gait,  and  apparently  powerful  ; 
an  immense  black  beard  covering  his  chin  and  upper  lip. 
There  was  at  the  same  time  something  cheerful  and  cordial 
in  the  man’s  address  ; and,  altogether,  he  cut  a very  impos- 
ing figure.  Everybody  liked  Doctor  Achmet  Borumborad  ; 
his  Turkish  dress,  being  extremely  handsome  without  any 


146  BARRINGTON’S  RECOLLECTIONS. 

approach  to  the  tawdry,  and  crowned  with  an  immense 
turban,  drew  the  eyes  of  every  passer-by  ; and  I must  say 
that  I have  never  myself  seen  a more  stately-looking  Turk 
since  that  period. 

The  eccentricity  of  the  doctor’s  appearance  was,  indeed, 
as  will  readily  be  imagined,  the  occasion  of  much  idle 
observation  and  conjecture.  At  first,  whenever  he  went 
abroad,  a crowd  of  people,  chiefly  boys,  was  sure  to  attend 
him,  but  at  a respectful  distance  ; and  if  he  turned  to  look 
behind  him,  the  gaping  boobies  fled,  as  if  they  conceived 
even  his  looks  to  be  mortal.  These  fears,  however,  gradually 
wore  away,  and  were  entirely  shaken  off,  on  the  fact  being 
made  public  that  he  meant  to  attend  the  poor  ; which 
undertaking  was,  in  the  usual  spirit  of  exaggeration,  soon 
construed  into  an  engagement,  on  the  part  of  the  doctor,  to 
cure  all  disorders  whatever  ! and  hence  he  quickly  became 
as  much  admired  and  respected  as  he  had  previously  been 
dreaded. 

My  fair  readers  will  perhaps  smile  when  I assure  them 
that  the  persons  who  seemed  to  have  the  least  apprehension 
of  Doctor  Borumborad,  or  rather  to  think  him  “ a very  nice 
Turk  ! ” were  the  ladies  of  the  metropolis.  Many  a smart, 
snug  little  husband,  who  had  been  heretofore  considered 
“ quite  the  thing,”  despotic  in  his  own  house,  and  peremp- 
tory commandant  of  his  own  family,  was  now  regarded  as  a 
wretched,  contemptible,  close-shaven  pigmy,  in  comparison 
with  the  immensity  of  the  doctor’s  figure  and  whiskers  ; and, 
what  is  more  extraordinary,  his  good  humour  and  engaging 
manners  gained  him  many  friends  even  among  the  husbands 
themselves  ! he  thus  becoming,  in  a shorter  period  than 
could  be  imagined,  a particular  favourite  with  the  entire 
city,  male  and  female. 

Doctor  Achmet  Borumborad  having  obtained  footing  thus 
far,  next  succeeded  surprisingly  in  making  his  way  amongst 
the  members  of  Parliament.  He  was  full  of  conversation, 


DR.  ACHMET  BORUMBORAD. 


I47 


yet  knew  his  proper  distance  ; pregnant  with  anecdote,  but 
discreet  in  its  expenditure  ; and  he  had  the  peculiar  talent 
of  being  humble  without  the  appearance  of  humility.  A 
submissive  Turk  would  have  been  out  of  character,  and  a 
haughty  one  excluded  from  society  ; the  doctor  was  aware 
of  this,  and  regulated  his  demeanour  with  remarkable  skill 
upon  every  occasion,  and  they  were  numerous,  whereon,  as 
a lion , he  was  invited  to  the  tables  of  the  great.  By  this 
line  of  conduct  he  managed  to  warm  those  who  patronised 
him  into  becoming  violent  partisans  ; and  accordingly  little 
or  no  difficulty  was  experienced  in  getting  a grant  from 
Parliament  for  a sufficient  fund  to  commence  his  great 
metropolitan  undertaking. 

Baths  were  now  planned  after  Turkish  models.  The 
money  voted  was  most  faithfully  appropriated  ; and  a more 
ingenious  or  useful  establishment  could  not  be  formed  in 
any  metropolis.  But  the  cash,  it  was  soon  discovered,  ran 
too  short  to  enable  the  doctor  to  complete  his  scheme  ; 
and  on  the  ensuing  session  a further  vote  became  necessary, 
which  was  by  no  means  opposed,  as  the  institution  was 
good,  fairly  executed,  and  charitably  applied.  The  worthy 
doctor  kept  his  ground  ; session  after  session  he  petitioned 
for  fresh  assistance,  and  never  met  with  refusal  ; his  profits 
were  good,  and  he  lived  well  ; whilst  the  baths  proved  of 
the  utmost  benefit,  and  the  poor  received  attention  and 
service  from  his  establishment  without  cost.  An  immense 
cold  bath  was  constructed  to  communicate  with  the  river  ; 
it  was  large  and  deep,  and  entirely  renewed  every  tide. 
The  neatest  lodging  rooms  for  those  patients  who  chose  to 
remain  during  a course  of  bathing  were  added  to  the 
establishment,  and  always  occupied.  In  short,  the  whole 
affair  became  so  popular,  and  Dr.  Achmet  acquired  so  many 
friends,  that  the  annual  grants  of  Parliament  were  considered 
nearly  as  matters  of  course. 

But  alas  ! fortune  is  treacherous,  and  prosperity  unstable. 


148 


Barrington's  recollections. 


Whilst  the  ingenious  Borumborad  was  thus  rapidly  flourish- 
ing, an  unlucky  though  most  ludicrous  incident  threw  the 
poor  fellow  completely  a-back,  and,  without  any  fault  on 
his  part,  nearly  ruined  both  himself  and  his  institution. 

Preparatory  to  every  session  it  was  the  doctor’s  invariable 
custom  to  give  a grand  dinner  at  the  baths  to  a large  number 
of  his  patrons,  members  of  Parliament  who  were  in  the 
habit  of  proposing  and  supporting  his  grants.  He  always 
on  these  occasions  procured  some  professional  singers, 
as  well  as  the  finest  wines  in  Ireland,  endeavouring  to 
render  the  parties  as  joyous  and  convivial  as  possible. 
Some  nobleman,  or  commoner  of  note,  always  acted  for  him 
as  chairman,  the  doctor  himself  being  quite  unassuming. 

At  the  last  commencement  of  a session,  whereupon  he 
anticipated  this  patronage,  it  was  intended  to  increase  his 
grant,  in  order  to  meet  the  expenses  of  certain  new  works, 
etc.,  which  he  had  executed  on  the  strength  of  the  ensuing 
supply  ; and  the  doctor  had  invited  nearly  thirty  of  the 
leading  members  to  a grand  dinner  in  his  spacious  saloon. 
The  singers  were  of  the  first  order  ; the  claret  and  cham- 
pagne excellent  ; and  never  was  the  Turk’s  hospitality  shewn 
off  to  better  advantage,  or  the  appetites  of  his  guests  admin- 
istered to  with  greater  success.  The  effects  of  the  wine, 
as  usual  on  all  such  meetings  in  Ireland,  began  t > grow 
obvious.  The  elder  and  more  discreet  members  were  for 
adjourning,  whilst  the  juveniles  declared  they  would  stay 
for  another  dozen  ! and  Doctor  Borumborad  accordingly 
went  down  himself  to  his  cellar,  to  select  and  send  up  a choice 
dozen  by  way  of  bonne  bouche  for  finishing  the  refractory 
members  of  Parliament. 

In  his  absence,  Sir  John  S.  Hamilton,  though  a very  dry 
member,  took  it  into  his  head  that  he  had  taken  enough, 
and  rose  to  go  away,  as  is  customary  in  these  days  of  freedom 
when  people  are  so  circumstanced  ; but  at  that  period  men 
were  not  always  their  own  masters  on  such  occasions,  and 


DR.  ACHMET  BORUMBORAD, 


149 


a general  cry  arose  of — “ Stop  Sir  John  ! stop  him  ! the 
bonne  bouche ! the  bonne  bouche  ! ” The  carousers  were 
on  the  alert  instantly  ; Sir  J ohn  opened  the  door  and  rushed 
out — the  ante-chamber  was  not  lighted,  some  one  ortwoand 
twenty  staunch  members  stuck  to  his  skirts — when  splash 
at  once  comes  Sir  John,  not  into  the  street,  but  into  the 
great  cold  bath , the  door  of  which  he  had  retreated  by  in 
mistake  ! The  other  Parliament  men  were  too  close  upon 
the  baronet  to  stop  short,  like  the  horse  of  a Cossack  ; in 
they  went  by  fours  and  fives  ; and  one  or  two  who,  on 
hearing  the  splashing  of  the  water,  cunningly  threw  them- 
selves down  on  the  brink  to  avoid  popping  in,  operated 
directly  as  stumbling  blocks  to  those  behind,  who  thus 
obtained  their  full  share  of  a bonne  bouche  none  of  the 
parties  had  bargained  for. 

When  Doctor  Borumborad  re-entered,  ushering  a couple 
of  servants  laden  with  a dozen  of  his  best  wine,  and  missed 
all  his  company,  he  thought  some  devil  had  carried  them 
off ; but  perceiving  the  door  of  his  noble,  deep,  cold  salt- 
water bath  open,  he  with  dismay  rushed  thither,  and  espied 
eighteen  or  nineteen  Irish  Parliament  men  either  floating 
like  so  many  corks  upon  the  surface,  or  scrambling  to  get 
out  like  mice  who  had  fallen  into  a bason  ! The  doctor’s 
posse  of  attendants  were  immediately  set  at  work,  and  every 
one  of  the  honourable  members  extricated  ; the  quantity  of 
salt-water,  however,  which  had  made  its  way  into  their 
stomachs  was  not  so  easily  removed,  and  most  of  them 
carried  the  beverage  home  to  their  own  bed-chambers. 

It  was  unlucky,  also,  that  as  the  doctor  was  a Turk,  he 
had  no  Christian  wardrobe  to  substitute  for  the  well-soaked 
garments  of  the  honourable  members.  Such  dresses,  how- 
ever, as  he  had  were  speedily  put  into  requisition  ; the 
bathing  attendants  furnished  their  quota  of  dry  apparel  ; and 
all  were  speedily  distributed  amongst  the  swimmers,  some 
of  whom  exhibited  in  Turkish  costume,  others  in  bathing 


150  BARRINGTON’S  RECOLLECTIONS. 

shifts,  and  when  the  clothes  failed,  blankets  were  pinned 
around  the  rest.  Large  fires  were  made  in  every  room  ; 
brandy  and  mulled  wine  liberally  resorted  to  ; and  as  fast  as 
sedan-chairs  could  be  procured,  the  Irish  Commoners  were 
sent  home,  cursing  all  Turks  and  infidels,  and  denouncing  a 
crusade  against  anything  coming  from  the  same  quarter  of 
the  globe  as  Constantinople. 

Poor  Doctor  Achmet  Borumborad  was  distracted  and 
quite  inconsolable  ! Next  day  he  duly  visited  every 
suffering  member,  and,  though  well  received,  was  acute 
enough  to  see  that  the  ridicule  with  which  they  had  covered 
themselves  was  likely  to  work  out  eventually  his  ruin.  His 
anticipations  were  well  founded  ; though  the  members 
sought  to  hush  up  the  ridiculous  parts  of  the  story,  they 
became,  from  that  very  attempt,  still  more  celebrated. 
In  fact,  it  was  too  good  a joke  to  escape  the  embellishments 
of  Irish  humour,  and  the  statement  universally  circulated 
was — that  “ Doctor  Borumborad  had  nearly  drowned 
nineteen  members  of  Parliament  because  they  would  not 
promise  to  vote  for  him  ! ” 

The  poor  doctor  was  now  assailed  in  every  way.  Among 
other  things,  it  was  asserted  that  he  was  the  Turk  who  had 
strangled  the  Christians  in  the  Seven  Towers  at  Constanti- 
nople ! Though  everybody  laughed  at  their  own  inventions, 
they  believed  those  of  other  people  ; and  the  conclusion  was, 
that  no  more  grants  could  be  proposed,  since  not  a single 
member  was  stout  enough  to  mention  the  name  of  Borum- 
borad ! the  laugh,  indeed,  would  have  overwhelmed  the  best 
speech  ever  delivered  in  the  Irish  Parliament. 

Still  the  new  works  must  be  paid  for,  although  no  con- 
venient vote  came  to  make  the  necessary  provision  ; the 
poor  doctor  was,  therefore,  cramped  a little,  but  notwith- 
standing his  embarrassment  he  kept  his  ground  well,  and 
lost  no  private  friends  except  such  as  the  wearing-off  of 
novelty  estranged.  He  continued  to  get  on  ; and  at  length 


DR.  ACHMET  BORUMBORAD. 


J51 

a new  circumstance  intervened  to  restore  his  happiness,  in 
a way  as  little  to  be  anticipated  by  the  reader  as  was  his 
previous  discomfiture. 

Love  had  actually  seized  upon  the  Turk  above  two  years 
before  the  accident  we  have  been  recording.  A respectable 
surgeon  of  Dublin,  of  the  name  of  Hartigan,  had  what  might 
be  termed  a very  “ neat  ” sister,  and  this  lady  had  made  a 
lasting  impression  on  the  heart  of  Borumborad,  who  had  no 
reason  to  complain  of  his  suit  being  treated  with  disdain,  or 

even  indifference.  On  the  contrary,  Miss  H liked  the 

doctor  vastly  ! and  praised  the  Turks  in  general,  both  for 
their  dashing  spirit  and  their  beautiful  whiskers.  It  was  not, 
however,  consistent  either  with  her  own  or  her  brother’s 
Christianity  to  submit  to  the  doctor’s  tremendous  beard,  or 
think  of  matrimony,  till  “ he  had  shaved  the  chin  at  least, 
and  got  a parson  to  turn  him  into  a Christian,  or  something 
of  that  kind.”  Upon  those  terms  only  would  she  surrender 
her  charms  and  her  money,  for  some  she  had,  to  Doctor 
Achmet  Borumborad,  however  amiable. 

The  doctor’s  courtship  with  the  members  of  Parliament 
having  now  terminated,  so  far,  at  any  rate,  as  further  grants 
were  concerned,  and  a grant  of  a much  more  tender  nature 
being  now  within  his  reach,  he  began  seriously  to  consider 

if  he  should  not  at  once  captitulate  to  Miss  H , and 

exchange  his  beard  and  his  Alcoran  for  a razor  and  the  New 
Testament.  After  weighing  matters  deliberately,  love 
prevailed,  and  he  intimated  by  letter,  in  the  proper 
vehemence  of  Asiatic  passion,  his  determination  to  turn 
Christian,  discard  his  beard,  and,  throwing  himself  at  the 
feet  of  his  beloved,  vowT  eternal  fidelity  to  her  in  the  holy 
bands  of  matrimony.  He  concluded  by  requesting  an 
interview  in  the  presence  of  the  young  lady’s  confidant,  a 
Miss  Owen,  who  resided  next  door.  His  request  was 
granted,  and  he  repeated  his  proposal,  vdiich  was  duly 
accepted,  Miss  Hartigan  stipulating  that  he  should  never 


BOSTON  COLLEGE  LIBRARY 
CHESTNUT  HILL,  MASS. 


152  Barrington’s  recollections. 

see  her  again  until  the  double  promise  in  his  letter  was  fully 
redeemed,  upon  which  he  might  mention  his  own  day  for 
the  ceremony.  The  doctor  having  engaged  to  comply, 
took  leave. 

On  the  evening  of  the  same  day  a gentleman  was  an- 
nounced to  the  bride-elect  with  a message  from  Doctor 
Achmet  Borumborad.  Her  confidential  neighbour  was 
immediately  summoned,  the  gentleman  waiting  meantime 
in  a coach  at  the  door.  At  length  Miss  Hartigan  and  her 
friend  being  ready  to  receive  him,  in  walked  a Christian 
gallant,  in  a suit  of  full-dress  black,  and  a very  tall,  fine- 

looking  Christian  he  was  ! Miss  H was  surprised  ; she 

did  not  recognise  her  lover,  particularly  as  she  thought  it 
impossible  he  could  have  been  made  a Christian  before  the 
ensuing  Sunday  ! He  immediately,  however,  fell  on  his 
knees,  seized  and  kissed  her  lily  hand,  and  on  her  beginning 
to  expostulate,  cried  out  at  once,  “ Don’t  be  angry,  my  dear 
creature  ! to  tell  the  honest  truth,  I am  as  good  a Christian 
as  the  Archbishop  ; I’m  your  own  countryman,  sure 
enough  ! Mr.  Patrick  Joyce,  from  Kilkenny  county,  the 
devil  a Turk  any  more  than  yourself,  my  sweet  angel  ! ” 
The  ladies  were  astonished  ; but  astonishment  did  not 
prevent  Miss  Hartigan  from  keeping  her  word,  and  Mr. 
and  Mrs,  Joyce  became  a very  loving  and  happy  couple. 

The  doctor’s  great  skill,  however,  was  supposed  to  lie  in 
his  beard  and  faith  ; consequently,  on  this  denouement , the 
baths  declined.  But  the  honest  fellow  never  had  done  any 
discreditable  or  improper  act — none,  indeed,  was  ever  laid  to 
his  charge  ; he  fully  performed  every  engagement  with  the 
Parliament  whilst  he  retained  the  power  to  do  so. 

His  beauty  and  portly  appearance  were  considerably 
diminished  by  his  change  of  garb.  The  long  beard  and 
picturesque  dress  had  been  half  the  battle  ; and  he  was, 
after  his  transformation,  but  a plain,  rather  coarse,  but  still 
brave-looking  fellow.  An  old  memorandum-book  reminded 


DR.  ACHMET  BORUMBORAD. 


*53 


me  of  these  circumstances,  as  it  noted  a payment  made  to 
him  by  me  on  behalf  of  my  elder  brother,  who  had  been 
lodging  in  the  bath-house  at  the  time  of  the  swimming  match . 

I regret  that  I never  inquired  as  to  Joyce’s  subsequent 
career,  nor  can  I say  whether  he  is  or  not  still  in  the  land  of 
the  living.  This  little  story  shews  the  facility  with  which 
public  money  was  formerly  voted,  and  at  the  same  time  the 
comparatively  fortunate  financial  state  of  Ireland  at  that 
period,  when  the  public  purse  could  afford  a multiplicity  of 
such  supplies  without  any  tax  or  imposition  whatsoever  being 
laid  upon  the  people  to  provide  for  them ! How  very  different 
were  the  measures  of  that  Parliament  even  ten  years 
afterwards  ! 


*54 


Barrington’s  recollections. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

ALDERMEN  OF  SKINNERS’  ALLEY. 

Orange  societies,  as  they  are  termed,  were  first  formed  by 
the  Protestants  to  oppose  and  counteract  the  turbulent 
demonstrations  of  the  Catholics,  who  formed  the  population 
of  the  south  of  Ireland.  But  at  their  commencement  the 
Orangemen  certainly  adopted  a principle  of  interference 
which  was  not  confined  to  religious  points  alone,  but  went 
to  put  down  all  popular  insurrections  which  might  arise  on 
any  point.  The  term  Protestant  ascendancy  was  coined  by 
Mr.  John  Gifford,  of  whom  more  hereafter,  and  became  an 
epithet  very  fatal  to  the  peace  of  Ireland.  Many  associa- 
tions indeed,  were,  from  time  to  time,  originated  : some  for 
reform , others  to  oppose  it,  some  for  toleration , others  for 
intolerance  ! There  were  good  men  and  loyal  subjects 
among  the  members  of  each,  including  many  who  never 
entertained  the  most  distant  idea  of  those  disastrous  results 
to  be  apprehended  at  the  feverish  period  preceding  the 
revolution  of  1798,  from  any  encouragement  to  innovation. 

I followed  up  the  principles  my  family  had  invariably 
pursued  from  their  first  settlement  in  Ireland — namely,  an 
attachment  divided  between  the  Crown  and  the  people.  In 
the  year  1795,  I saw  that  the  people  were  likely  to  grow  too 
strong  for  the  Crown,  and,  therefore,  became  at  once,  not 
indeed,  an  ultra , but  one  in  whom  loyalty  absorbed  almost 
every  other  consideration.  I willingly  united  in  every  effort 
to  check  the  rising  spirit  of  popular  disaffection — the 
dreadful  results  of  which  were  manifested  in  the  atrocities 
acting  throughout  France,  and  in  the  tottering  state  of  the 
crowns  of  Europe. 

I had  been  previously  initiated  by  my  friend,  Doctor 


ALDERMEN  OF  SKINNERS*  ALLEY. 


*ss 


Duigenan,  Judge  of  the  Prerogative  Court,  into  a very 
curious  but  most  loyal  society,  whereof  he  was  grand  master 
at  the  time  of  my  election  ; and  as  this  club  differed  essen- 
tially from  any  other  in  the  empire,  it  may  be  amusing  to 
describe  it — a labour  which  nobody  has  hitherto,  I believe, 
undertaken. 

This  curious  assemblage  was  called  “ The  Aldermen  of 
Skinners*  Alley  ” ; it  was  the  first  Orange  association  ever 
formed  ; and  having,  at  the  period  I allude  to,  existed  a full 
century  in  pristine  vigour,  it  had  acquired  considerable 
local  influence  and  importance.  Its  origin  was  as  follows  : 
After  William  the  Third  had  mounted  the  English  throne, 
and  King  James  had  assumed  the  reins  of  government  in 
Ireland,  the  latter  monarch  annulled  the  then  existing  charter 
of  the  Dublin  Corporation,  dismissed  all  the  aldermen  who 
had  espoused  the  revolutionary  cause,  and  replaced  them  by 
others  attached  to  himself.  In  doing  this  he  was  certainly 
justifiable  ; the  deposed  aldermen,  however,  had  secreted 
some  little  articles  of  their  paraphernalia,  and  privately 
assembled  in  an  alehouse  in  Skinners*  Alley,  a very  obscure 
part  of  the  capital.  Here  they  continued  to  hold  Anti- 
Jacobite  meetings,  elected  their  own  lord  mayor  and  officers, 
and  got  a marble  bust  of  King  William,  which  they  regarded 
as  a sort  of  deity  ! These  meetings  were  carried  on  till 
the  battle  of  the  Boyne  put  William  in  possession  of  Dublin, 
when  King  James’s  aldermen  were  immediately  cashiered, 
and  the  Aldermen  of  Skinners'  Alley  re-invested  with  their 
mace  and  aldermanic  glories. 

To  honour  the  memory  of  their  restorer,  therefore,  a per- 
manent association  was  formed,  and  invested  with  all  the 
memorials  of  their  former  disgrace  and  latter  reinstatement. 
This  organisation,  constituted  near  a century  before, 
remained,  I fancy,  quite  unaltered  at  the  time  I became  a 
member.  To  make  the  general  influence  of  this  association 
the  greater,  the  number  of  members  was  unlimited,  and  the 


*56 


Barrington’s  recollections. 


mode  of  admission  solely  by  the  proposal  and  seconding 
of  tried  aldermen . For  the  same  reason,  no  class,  however 
humble,  was  excluded — equality  reigning  in  its  most  perfect 
state  at  the  assemblies.  Generals  and  wigmakers,  king’s 
counsel  and  hackney  clerks,  etc.,  all  mingled  without 
distinction  as  brother-aldermen.  A lord  mayor  was 
annually  appointed,  and  regularity  and  decorum  always 
prevailed,  until  at  least  towards  the  conclusion  of  the  meetings, 
when  the  aldermen  became  more  than  usually  noisy  and 
exhilarated — King  William’s  bust  being  placed  in  the  centre 
of  the  supper-table  to  overlook  their  extreme  loyalty.  The 
times  of  meeting  were  monthly  ; and  every  member  paid 
sixpence  per  month,  which  sum,  allowing  for  the  absentees, 
afforded  plenty  of  eatables,  porter  and  punch,  for  the  supping 
aldermen . 

Their  charter-dish  was  sheep's  trotters , in  allusion  to  King 
James’s  running  away  from  Dublin  ; rum-punch  in  blue 
jugs,  whisky-punch  in  white  ones,  and  porter  in  its  pewter 
were  scattered  plentifully  over  the  table  ; and  all  regular 
formalities  being  gone  through,  and  the  eating  part  of  the 
ceremony  ended,  the  real  business  began  by  a general  chorus 
of  “ God  Save  the  King  ! ” whereupon  the  grand  engine 
which,  as  a loyal  and  facetious  shoemaker  observed,  would 
bind  every  sole  of  them  together,  and  commemorate  them  all 
till  the  end  of  time,  was  set  at  work  by  order  of  the  lord  mayor. 
This  engine  was  the  charter-toast,  always  given  with  nine 
times  nine  ! and  duly  succeeded  by  vociferous  acclamations. 

The  1st  of  July,  anniversary  of  the  battle  of  the  Boyne, 
was  the  favourite  night  of  the  assembly  ; then  every  man 
unbuttoned  the  knees  of  his  breeches,  and  drank  the  toast  on 
his  bare  joints — it  being  pronounced  by  his  lordship  in  the 
following  words,  composed  expressly  for  the  purpose  in  the 
year  1689  ; afterwards  adopted  by  the  Orange  societies 
generally,  and  still,  I believe,  considered  as  the  charter- 
toast  of  them  all. 


ALDERMEN  OF  SKINNERS’  ALLEY,  1 57 

This  most  ancient  and  unparalleled  sentiment  ran  thus  : 
Orange  Toast. 

“ The  glorious,  pious,  and  immortal  memory  of  the  great 
and  good  King  William — not  forgetting  Oliver  Cromwell, 
who  assisted  in  redeeming  us  from  popery,  slavery,  arbitrary 
power,  brass-money,  and  wooden  shoes.  May  we  never 
want  a Williamite  to  kick  the  . . . of  a Jacobite  ! and 
a ...  for  the  Bishop  of  Cork  ! And  he  that  won’t  drink 
this,  whether  he  be  priest,  bishop,  deacon,  bellows-blower, 
gravedigger,  or  any  other  of  the  fraternity  of  the  clergy , 
may  a north  wind  blow  him  to  the  south,  and  a west  wind 
blow  him  to  the  east  ! May  he  have  a dark  night,  a lee 
shore,  a rank  storm,  and  a leaky  vessel  to  carry  him  over 
the  River  Styx  ! May  the  dog  Cerberus  make  a meal  of 
his  r — p,  and  Pluto  a snuff-box  of  his  skull  ; and  may 
the  devil  jump  down  his  throat  with  a red-hot  harrow, 
with  every  pin  tear  out  a gut,  and  blow  him  with  a clean 
carcass  to  hell  ! Amen  ! ” 

The  extraordinary  zeal  wherewith  this  toast  was  drunk 
could  only  be  equalled  by  the  enthusiasm  with  which  the 
blue  and  white  jugs  and  pewter  pots  were  resorted  to,  to 
ascertain  the  quality  of  the  potation  within — both  processes 
serving  to  indicate  the  quantity  of  loyalty  entertained  by 
every  alderman  towards  the  king,  Doctor  Duigenan,  and  the 
Protestant  religion  ! They  then  rebuttoned  the  knees  of 
their  breeches — trousers  had  not  come  into  fashion — and 
sat  down  to  work  again  in  downright  earnest.  Mr.  Powell,  a 
jolly  apothecary,  till  he  was  killed,  by  singing  I suppose,  led, 
in  my  time,  the  vocal  band  ; and  after  a dozen  speeches, 
accompanied  by  numerous  replenishments  of  the  jugs,  etc., 
everybody  who  had  anything  to  do  in  the  morning  gene- 
rally withdrew,  leaving  the  rest  of  the  loyalists  to  finish  the 
last  drop. 

The  idea  of  “ Orange  Societies  ” arose,  in  my  opinion, 
from  this  association.  I believe  it  exists  still,  but  has,  I 


158  BARRINGTON’S  RECOLLECTIONS. 

understand,  degenerated  into  a sort  of  half-mounted  club — 
not  exclusive  enough  for  gentlemen,  and  too  fine  for  wig- 
makers  ; it  has  sunk  into  a paltry  and  unimportant  corporate 
utensil. 

I recollect  an  amusing  circumstance  which  many  years 
back  occurred  in  this  lodge.  Until  politics  grew  too  hot, 
Napper  Tandy  and  several  other  of  the  patriots  were  aider- 
men  ! but  finding  that  ultra-lo3ralty  was  making  way  too  fast 
for  their  notions,  they  sought  some  fair  opportunity  of 
seceding  from  the  club,  stealing  the  mace,  and  regenerating 
the  whole  board  and  establishment  of  Skinners’  Alley  ! and 
the  opportunity  was  not  long  wanting. 

An  apothecary  of  the  name  of  M‘ Mahon  had  become  an 
alderman  solely  to  avoid  being  considered  a friend  of  the 
Pope  ; this,  in  point  of  reality,  he  was  ; but  since,  at  that 
period,  his  creed  was  not  the  popular  one,  he  conceived 
that  he  might  thrive  better  in  his  business  by  appearing  a 
staunch  Protestant,  or  at  least  might  learn,  by  association, 
some  valuable  secret s,  and  then  betray  them  to  his  own 
sect. 

But  M‘Mahon,  although  a clever  person,  was  like  many 
an  honest  fellow,  vastly  more  candid  when  he  got  “ the  sup 
in  ” than  he  had  ever  intended  to  be  ; indeed,  in  these 
circumstances,  whatever  a man  thinks  often  comes  out  in 
spite  of  him,  as  if  it  disagreed  with  his  liquor  ! Thus  one 
unfortunate  night,  “ Dr.  M‘Mahon,  the  apothecary,”  as  he 
was  termed  in  Armiger  Street,  having  made  too  free  amongst 
his  brother  aldermen,  and  been  completely  over-mastered  by 
the  blue  jug,  forgot  his  company,  and  began  to  speak  rather 
unkindly  of  King  William.  His  worthy  associates,  who  had 
made  similar  applications  to  the  blue  and  white , took  fire 
at  this  sacrilege  offered  to  their  patron  saint  ; one  word 
brought  on  another  ; the  doctor  grew  outrageous,  and  in 
his  paroxysm,  not  having  the  fear  of  flogging  before  his 
eyes,  actually  damned  King  William  ! proceeding,  in  the 


ALDERMEN  OF  SKINNERS’  ALLEY. 


*59 


enthusiasm  of  his  popery,  most  thoughtlessly  for  himself 
and  for  the  unhappy  king’s  bust  then  staring  before  him,  to 
strike  it  with  his  huge  fat  fist  plump  in  the  face  ! 

The  bust  immediately  shewed  most  evident  and  marvel- 
lous symptoms  of  maltreatment  by  the  apothecary,  its 
beautiful  virgin  white  marble  appearing  to  be  actually 
stained  with  blood  ! This  miracle  caused  one  of  the 
aldermen  to  roar  out  in  a fright — “ That  villain,  M‘Mahon, 
has  broken  the  king’s  nose  ! ” — “ The  king’s  nose  ? ” ran 
throughout  the  room  ; some,  who  had  been  dozing,  hearing 
this  cry  of  high  treason  from  every  quarter,  rose  and  rushed 
with  the  rest  upon  the  doctor  ; his  clothes  were  soon 
turned  into  ribbons,  and  the  cry  of  “ Throw  him  out  of 
the  window  ! ” was  unanimously  and  resolutely  adopted  ; 
the  window  was  opened  ; the  doctor,  after  exerting  all  his 
muscular  powers — and  he  was  a strong,  active  man — was 
compelled  to  yield  to  numbers,  and  out  he  went  into  the 
street,  very  much  to  the  ease  and  satisfaction  of  the  loyal 
aldermen.  The  window  was  now  closed  again,  the  “ Glori- 
ous Memory  ” drunk,  the  king’s  nose  washed  clean  from 
the  blood  formerly  belonging  to  the  doctor’s  knuckles, 
which  his  majesty’s  feature  had  unmercifully  scarified,  and 
all  restored  to  peace  and  tranquillity. 

As  for  the  poor  doctor,  out  he  went,  as  we  have  said, 
clean  and  cleverly,  one  good  storey.  But  whether  through 
chance  or  Providence,  we  will  not  pretend  to  determine, 
fortunately  for  him,  a lamp  and  lamp-iron  stood  imme- 
diately under  the  window  whereby  he  had  made  so  sudden 
an  exit ! Hence  the  doctor’s  route  downwards  was  im- 
peded by  a crash  against  the  lamp  ; the  glass  and  other 
materials  all  yielded  to  the  precious  weight,  and  very 
probably  prevented  the  pavement  from  having  the  honour 
of  braining  him  ; he  held  a moment  by  the  iron,  and  then 
dropped  quite  gently  into  the  arms  of  a couple  of  guardians 
of  the  night,  who,  attracted  by  the  uproar  in  the  room 


160  Barrington’s  recollections. 

above,  and  seeing  the  window  open,  and  the  doctor  getting 
out  feet  foremost,  conceived  that  it  was  only  a drunken 
frolic,  and  so  placed  themselves  underneath  “ to  keep 
the  gentleman  out  of  the  gutter.” 

The  doctor  scarcely  waited  to  thank  his  preservers,  set 
out  pretty  well  sobered  to  his  home,  and  the  next  day, 
summoning  all  the  humane  and  patriotic  aldermen,  to 
whom  he  told  his  own  story,  they  determined  to  secede 
and  set  up  a new  corps  at  the  King’s  Arms  in  Fowns’s 
Street.  The  old  aldermen  defended  their  conduct  as  loyal 
subjects  ; the  others  stigmatised  it  as  the  act  of  a set  of 
manslaughterers.  These  old  and  young  guards  of  the 
British  Constitution  from  that  day  set  about  advertising 
each  other,  and  making  proselytes  on  either  side  ; and 
the  Orange  and  United  Irishmen  parties  gained  as  many 
recruiting  sergeants  by  the  fracas  as  there  were  permanents 
or  seceders  amongst  those  illustrious  aldermen. 


PROCESSION  OF  THE  TRADES. 


161 


CHAPTER  XX. 

PROCESSION  OF  THE  TRADES. 

Nothing  can  better  shew  the  high  opinion  entertained  by 
the  Irish  of  their  own  importance,  and  particularly  by  that 
celebrated  body  called  the  Corporation  of  Dublin,  than  the 
following  incident.  Mr.  Willis,  a leather  breeches  maker  in 
Dame  Street,  and  a famous  orator  at  the  Corporation  meet- 
ings, holding  forth  one  day  about  the  parochial  watch,  a 
subject  which  he  considered  as  of  the  utmost  general  import- 
ance, discoursed  as  follows  : — “ This,  my  friends,  is  a subject 
neither  trifling  nor  obscure  ; the  character  of  our  Corpora- 
tion is  at  stake  on  your  decision  ! — recollect,”  continued  he, 
“ recollect,  brother  freemen,  that  the  eyes  of  all  Europe  are 
upon  us  ! ” 

One  of  the  customs  of  Dublin  which  prevailed  in  my 
early  days  made  such  a strong  impression  upon  my  mind 
that  it  never  could  be  obliterated.  The  most  magnificent 
and  showy  procession,  I really  believe,  except  those  of 
Rome,  then  took  place  in  the  Irish  metropolis  every  third 
year,  and  attracted  a number  of  English  quite  surprising,  if 
we  take  into  account  the  great  difficulty  existing  at  that  time 
with  regard  to  travelling  from  London  to  Dublin. 

The  Corporation  of  the  latter  city  were  by  the  terms  of 
their  charter  bound  once  in  three  years  to  perambulate  the 
limits  of  the  Lord  Mayor’s  jurisdiction,  to  make  stands  or 
stations  at  various  points,  and  to  skirt  the  Earl  of  Meath’s 
liberties — a part  of  the  city  at  that  era  in  great  prosperity, 
but  forming  a local  jurisdiction  of  its  own,  in  the  nature  of 
a manor,  totally  distinct  from  that  of  Dublin. 

This  procession  being,  in  fact,  partly  intended  to  mark  and 
to  designate  the  extreme  boundaries  of  his  lordship’s  juris- 

(D311) 


M 


1 62  Barrington’s  recollections. 

diction,  at  those  points  where  they  touch  the  Earl  of  Meath’s 
liberty,  the  Lord  Mayor  thrust  his  sword  through  the  wall 
of  a certain  house,  and  then  concluded  the  ceremony  by 
approaching  the  sea  at  low  water,  and  hurling  a javelin 
as  far  upon  the  sands  as  his  strength  admitted,  which 
was  understood  to  form  the  boundary  between  him  and 
Neptune. 

The  trade  of  Dublin  is  comprised  of  twenty-five  corpora- 
tions, or  guilds,  each  independent  of  the  other,  and  repre- 
sented as  in  London  by  a common  council.  Every  one  of 
these  comprised  its  masters,  journeymen,  and  apprentices  ; 
and  each  guild  had  a patron  saint,  or  protector,  whose  image 
or  emblem  was  on  all  great  occasions  dressed  up  in  appro- 
priate habiliments . 

For  this  procession  every  member  of  the  twenty-five 
corporations  prepared  as  for  a jubilee.  Small  funds  only 
were  collected,  and  each  individual  gladly  bore  his  extra 
charges — the  masters  and  journeymen  being  desirous  of 
outvying  one  another,  and  conceiving  that  the  gayer  they 
appeared  on  that  great  day  the  more  consideration  would 
they  be  entitled  to  throughout  the  ensuing  three  years  ! Of 
course,  therefore,  such  as  could  afford  it  spared  no  expense  ; 
they  borrowed  the  fiAiest  horses  and  trappings  which  could 
be  procured  ; the  masters  rode,  the  journeymen  walked,  and 
were  succeeded  by  the  apprentices. 

Every  corporation  had  an  immense  carriage  with  a great 
platform  and  high  canopy,  the  whole  radiant  with  gilding, 
ribbons  and  draperies,  and  drawn  by  six  or  eight  horses, 
equally  decked  and  caparisoned,  their  colours  and  flags 
flying  in  all  directions.  On  these  platforms,  which  were 
fitted  up  as  workshops,  were  the  implements  of  the  re- 
spective trades,  and  expert  hands  were  actually  at  work 
during  the  entire  perambulation,  which  generally  lasted 
eight  or  nine  hours.  The  procession,  indeed,  took  two  hours 
to  pass.  The  narrow- weavers  wove  ribbons  which  they 


PROCESSION  OF  THE  TRADES. 


163 

threw  to  the  spectators — the  others  tossed  into  the  air 
small  patterns  of  the  fabric  they  worked  upon ; the  printers 
were  employed  in  striking  off  innumerable  hand-bills,  with 
songs  and  odes  to  the  Lord  Mayor. 

But  the  smiths’  part  of  the  spectacle  was  the  most  gaudy  ; 
they  had  their  forge  in  full  work,  and  were  attended  by  a 
very  high  phaeton  adorned  in  every  way  they  could  think 
of,  the  horses  covered  with  flowers  and  coloured  streamers. 
In  this  phaeton  sat  the  most  beautiful  girl  they  could 
possibly  procure,  in  the  character  of  wife  to  their  patron, 
Vulcan.  It  is  unnecessary  to  describe  her  dress  ; suffice  it 
to  say,  it  approached  that  of  a Venus  as  nearly  as  decency 
would  permit — a blue  scarf  covered  with  silver  doves  was 
used  at  her  discretion,  and  four  or  five  little  Cupids  attired 
like  pages,  aiming  with  bows  and  arrows  at  the  ladies  in  the 
windows,  played  at  her  feet.  On  one  side  rode,  on  the 
largest  horse  which  could  be  provided,  a huge  fellow  repre- 
senting Vulcan,  dressed  cap-a-pie  in  coal  black  armour,  and 
flourishing  an  immense  smith’s  sledge-hammer  ! On  the 
other  side  pranced  his  rival,  Mars,  on  a tawdry-caparisoned 
charger,  in  shining  armour,  with  an  immensity  of  feathers 
and  horse-hair,  and  brandishing  a two-edged  glittering  sword 
six  or  eight  feet  long,  Venus  meantime  seeming  to  pay  much 
more  attention  to  her  gallant  than  to  her  husband.  Behind 
the  phaeton  rode  Argus  with  an  immense  peacock’s  tail ; 
whilst  numerous  other  gods  and  goddesses,  saints,  devils, 
satyrs,  etc.,  were  distributed  in  the  procession. 

The  skinners  and  tanners  seemed  to  undergo  no  slight 
penance — a considerable  number  of  these  artisans  being 
dressed  up  close  in  sheep  and  goat  skins  of  different  colours. 
The  representatives  of  the  butchers  were  enveloped  in  hides, 
with  long  towering  horns,  and  rode  along  brandishing  knives 
and  cleavers ! — a most  formidable  looking  corporation.  The 
apothecaries  made  up  and  distributed  pills  and  boluses  os. 
their  platform,  which  was  furnished  with  numerous  pestles 


164 


Barrington’s  recollections. 


and  mortars  so  contrived  as  to  sound,  in  the  grinding,  like 
bells,  and  pounding  out  some  popular  air.  Each  corporation 
had  its  appropriate  band  and  colours  ; perfect  order  was 
maintained,  and  so  proud  was  the  Dublin  mob  of  what  they 
called  their  fringes , that  on  these  peculiar  occasions  they 
managed  to  behave  with  great  decorum  and  propriety. 

I never  could  guess  the  reason  why,  but  the  crowd  seemed 
ever  in  the  most  anxious  expectation  to  see  the  tailors , who 
were  certainly  the  favourites.  The  master  tailors  usually 
borrowed  the  best  horses  from  their  customers  ; and  as  they 
were  not  accustomed  to  horseback,  the  scene  was  highly 
ludicrous.  A tailor  on  a spirited  horse  has  always  been 
esteemed  a curiosity,  but  a troop  of  a hundred  and  fifty 
tailors,  all  decked  with  ribbons  and  lace  and  every  species 
of  finery,  on  horses  equally  smart,  presented  a spectacle 
outvying  description  ! The  journeymen  and  apprentices 
walked,  except  that  number  of  workmen  on  the  platform. 
St.  Crispin  with  his  last,  St.  Andrew  with  his  cross,  and  St. 
Luke  with  his  gridiron,  were  all  included  in  the  show, 
as  were  the  city  officers  in  their  full  robes  and  paraphernalia. 
The  guild  of  merchants,  being  under  the  special  patron- 
age of  the  Holy  Trinity,  could  not,  with  all  their  ingenuity, 
find  out  any  unprofane  emblem,  except  a shamrock  of  huge 
dimensions  ! the  three  distinct  leaves  whereof  are  on  one 
stalk.  This,  by  the  way,  offered  St.  Patrick  means  of 
explaining  the  Trinity,  and  thereby  of  converting  the  Irish 
to  Christianity,  and  hence  the  shamrock  became  the 
national  emblem  of  Ireland.  The  merchants  had  also 
a large  ship  on  wheels,  drawn  and  manned  by  real  sailors. 

This  singular  procession  I twice  witnessed  ; it  has  since 
been  abolished,  after  having  worked  well,  and  done  no  harm, 
from  the  days  of  the  very  first  lord  mayor  of  Dublin.  The 
city  authorities,  however,  began  at  length  to  think  venison 
and  claret  would  be  better  things  for  the  same  expense  ; and 
so  it  was  decided  that  the  money  should  remain  in  the  purse 


PROCESSION  OF  THE  TRADES. 


165 


of  the  corporation,  and  a wretched  substitute  for  the  old 
ceremony  was  arranged.  The  lord  mayor  and  sheriffs,  with 
some  dozen  of  dirty  constables,  now  perambulate  these 
bounds  in  privacy  and  silence — thus  defeating,  in  my  mind, 
the  very  intention  of  their  charter,  and  taking  away  a 
triennial  prospective  object  of  great  attraction  and  pride  to 
the  inhabitants  of  the  metropolis  of  Ireland,  for  the  sole 
purpose  of  gratifying  the  sensual  appetites  of  a city  aristo- 
cracy, who  court  satiety  and  indigestion  at  the  expense  of 
their  humbler  brethren. 


Barrington’s  recollections. 


i 66 


CHAPTER  XXL 

IRISH  REBELLION. 

I dined  at  the  house  of  Lady  Colclough,  a near  relative  of 
Lady  Barrington,  in  the  town  of  Wexford,  in  April,  1798. 
The  company,  so  far  as  I recollect,  consisted  of  about 
seventeen  persons,  amongst  whom  were  several  other  of 

Lady  B ’s  relatives,  then  members  of  the  grand  jury  ; 

Mr.  Cornelius  Grogan,  of  Johnstown,  a gentleman  of  very 
large  fortune,  who  had  represented  the  county  ; his  two 
brothers,  both  wealthy  men  ; Captain  Keogh,  afterwards 

rebel  governor  of  Wexford,  the  husband  of  Lady  B ’s 

aunt ; the  unfortunate  John  Colclough,  of  Tintern  ; and  the 
still  more  unfortunate  Mr.  Colclough  ; Counsellor  John 
Beauman  ; Counsellor  Bagenal  Harvey,  afterwards  the  rebel 
generalissimo  ; Mr.  William  Hatton,  and  some  others.  The 
conversation  after  dinner  turning  on  the  distracted  state  of 
the  country  became  rather  too  free,  and  I begged  some  of 
the  party  to  be  more  moderate,  as  our  ways  of  thinking  were 
so  different,  and  my  public  situation  did  not  permit  me, 
especially  at  that  particular  period,  to  hear  such  strong 
language.  The  loyalists  amongst  us  did  not  exceed  four 
or  five. 

The  tone  of  the  conversation  was  soon  lowered,  but  not 
before  I had  made  up  my  mind  as  to  the  probable  fate  of 
several  in  company,  though  I certainly  had  no  idea  that,  in 
little  more  than  a month,  a sanguinary  rebellion  would  deso- 
late my  native  land,  and  violent  deaths,  within  three  months, 
befal  a great  proportion  of  that  joyous  assemblage.  I had 
seen  enough,  however,  to  convince  me  that  all  was  not  right, 
and  that,  by  plunging  one  step  farther,  most  of  my  relatives 
and  friends  would  be  in  imminent  danger.  The  party,  how- 


IRISH  REBELLION. 


167 


ever,  broke  up  ; and  next  morning  Mr.  Beauman  and  myself? 
happening  to  meet  on  the  bridge,  talked  over  the  occurrences 
of  the  previous  day,  uniting  in  opinion  as  to  the  inauspicious 
aspect  of  things,  and  actually  proceeding  to  make  out  a list 
of  those  amongst  the  dinner  party  whom  we  considered  likely 
to  fall  victims  ! and  it  so  turned  out  that  every  one  of  our 
predictions  was  verified.  It  was  superficial  observation 
alone  that  led  me  to  think  as  I did  at  that  moment,  but  a 
decided  presentiment  of  what  eventually  happened  soon 
after  took  possession  of  me  ; and,  indeed,  so  full  was  I of 
forebodings  that  I have  more  than  once  been  roused  out  of 
my  sleep  by  the  horrid  ideas  floating  through  my  mind  ! 

Bagenal  Harvey,  already  mentioned  in  this  work,  who  had 
been  my  schoolfellow  and  constant  circuit-companion  for 
many  years,  laughed  at  Lady  Colclough’s  at  my  political 
prudery,  assured  me  I was  totally  wrong  in  suspecting  him, 
and  insisted  on  my  going  to  Bargay  Castle,  his  residence,  to 
meet  some  old  Temple  friends  of  ours  on  the  ensuing 
Monday.  My  relative,  Captain  Keogh,  was  to  be  of  the 
party. 

I accordingly  went  there  to  dinner,  but  that  evening 
proved  to  me  one  of  great  uneasiness,  and  made  a very 
disagreeable  impression  both  on  my  mind  and  spirits. 
The  company  I met  included  Captain  Keogh  ; the  two 
unfortunate  Counsellors  Sheers,  who  were  both  hung  shortly 
afterwards  ; Mr.  Colclough,  who  was  hung  on  the  bridge  ; 
Mr.  Hay,  who  was  also  executed  ; Mr.  William  Hatton,  one 
of  the  rebel  directory  of  Wexford,  who  unaccountably 
escaped  ; and  a gentleman  of  the  bar,  whose  name  I shall 
not  mention,  as  he  still  lives. 

The  entertainment  was  good  and  the  party  cheerful. 
Temple  freaks  were  talked  over,  the  bottle  circulated  ; but 
at  length  Irish  politics  became  the  topic,  and  proceeded  to 
an  extent  of  disclosure  which  utterly  surprised  me.  With 
the  Messrs.  Sheers,  particularly  Henry,  I had  always  been 


1 68 


Barrington’s  recollections. 


on  terms  of  the  greatest  intimacy.  I had  extricated  both  of 
them  not  long  before  from  considerable  difficulty,  through 
the  kindness  of  Lord  Kilwarden  ; and  I had  no  idea  that 
matters  wherein  they  were  concerned  had  proceeded  to  the 
lengths  developed  on  that  night.  The  probability  of  a 
speedy  revolt  was  freely  discussed,  though  in  the  most 
artful  manner,  not  a word  of  any  of  the  party  committing 
themselves  ; but  they  talked  it  over  as  a result  which  might 
be  expected  from  the  complexion  of  the  times  and  the  irrita- 
tion excited  in  consequence  of  the  severities  exercised  by  the 
Government.  The  chances  of  success,  in  the  event  of  a 
rising,  were  openly  debated,  as  were  also  the  circumstances 
likely  to  spring  from  that  success,  and  the  examples  which 
the  insurgents  would  in  such  a case  probably  make.  All 
this  was  at  the  same  time  talked  over,  without  one  word 
being  uttered  in  favour  of  rebellion — a system  of  caution 
which  I afterwards  learned  was  much  practised  for  the 
purpose  of  gradually  making  proselytes  without  alarming 
them.  I saw  through  it  clearly,  and  here  my  presentiments 
came  strong  upon  me.  I found  myself  in  the  midst  of 
absolute  though  unavowed  conspirators.  I perceived  that 
the  explosion  was  much  nearer  than  the  Government 
expected,  and  I was  startled  at  the  decided  manner  in  which 
my  host  and  his  friends  spoke. 

Under  these  circumstances,  my  alternative  was  evidently 
to  quit  the  house  or  give  a turn  to  the  conversation.  I,  there- 
fore, began  to  laugh  at  the  subject,  and  ridicule  it  as  quite 
visionary,  observing  jestingly  to  Keogh — “ Now,  my  dear 
Keogh,  it  is  quite  clear  that  you  and  I in  this  famous 
rebellion  shall  be  on  different  sides  of  the  question,  and,  of 
course,  one  or  the  other  of  us  must  necessarily  be 
hanged  at  or  before  its  termination — I upon  a lamp- 
iron  in  Dublin  or  you  on  the  bridge  of  Wexford. 
Now,  we’ll  make  a bargain  ! — if  we  beat  you,  upon  my 
honour  I’ll  do  all  I can  to  save  your  neck,  and  if  your 


IRISH  REBELLION.  1 69 

folks  beat  us,  you’ll  save  me  from  the  honour  of  the  lamp- 
iron  ! ” 

We  shook  hands  on  the  bargain,  which  created  much 
merriment,  and  gave  the  whole  after-talk  a cheerful  character, 
and  I returned  to  Wexford  at  twelve  at  night,  with  a most 
decided  impression  of  the  danger  of  the  country,  and  a com- 
plete presentiment  that  either  myself  or  Captain  Keogh 
would  never  see  the  conclusion  of  that  summer. 

I immediately  wrote  to  Mr.  Secretary  Cooke,  without 
mentioning  names,  place,  or  any  particular  source  of  know- 
ledge, but  simply  to  assure  him  that  there  was  not  a doubt 
that  an  insurrection  would  break  out  at  a much  earlier 
period  than  the  Government  expected.  I desired  him  to 
ask  me  no  questions,  but  said  that  he  might  depend  upon 
the  fact,  adding  that  a commanding  force  ought  instantly  to 
be  sent  down  to  garrison  the  town  of  Wexford.  “ If  the 
Government,”  said  I in  conclusion,  “ does  not  attend  to  my 
warning,  it  must  take  the  consequences.”  My  warning  was 
not  attended  to,  but  his  majesty’s  Government  soon  found  I 
was  right.  They  lost  Wexford,  and  might  have  lost  Ireland, 
by  that  culpable  inattention. 

The  result  need  scarcely  be  mentioned  ; every  member  of 
that  jovial  dinner-party,  with  the  exception  of  myself,  the 
barrister  before  alluded  to,  and  Mr.  Hatton,  was  executed 
within  three  months  ! and  on  my  next  visit  to  Wexford  I saw 
the  heads  of  Captain  Keogh,  Mr.  Harvey,  and  Mr.  Colclough 
on  spikes  over  the  court-house  door. 

Previously  to  the  final  catastrophe,  however,  when  the 
insurgents  had  been  beaten,  Wexford  retaken  by  our  troops, 
and  Keogh  made  prisoner,  I did  not  forget  my  promise  to 
him  at  Bargay  Castle.  Many  certificates  had  reached 
Dublin  of  his  humanity  to  the  royalists  whilst  the  town  of 
Wexford  was  under  his  government,  and  of  Attempts  made 
upon  his  life  by  Dixon,  a chief  of  his  own  party,  for  his 
endeavouring  to  resist  the  rebel  butcheries.  I had  intended 


Barrington’s  recollections. 


170 

to  go  with  these  directly  to  Lord  Camden,  the  Lord  Lieu- 
tenant ; but  I first  saw  Mr.  Secretary  Cooke,  to  whom  I 
related  the  entire  story,  and  shewed  him  several  favourable 
documents.  He  told  me  I might  save  myself  the  trouble 
of  going  to  Lord  Camden,  and  at  the  same  time  handed  me 
a despatch  received  that  morning  from  General  Lake,  who 
stated  that  he  had  thought  it  necessary,  on  recapturing 
Wexford,  to  lose  no  time  in  “ making  examples  ” of  the  rebel 
chiefs  ; and  that  accordingly  Mr.  Grogan,  of  Johnstown  ; 
Mr.  Bagenal  Harvey,  of  Bargay  Castle  ; Captain  Keogh, 
Mr.  Colclough,  and  some  other  gentlemen  had  been  hanged 
on  the  bridge  and  beheaded  the  previous  morning. 

I felt  shocked  beyond  measure  at  this  intelligence,  par- 
ticularly as  I knew  Mr.  Cornelius  Grogan,  an  excellent 
gentleman,  seventy  years  of  age,  of  very  large  fortune  and 
establishments,  to  be  no  more  a rebel  than  myself.  Being 
unable,  from  infirmity,  to  walk  without  assistance,  he  was 
led  to  execution. 

I was  at  all  times  ready  and  willing  to  risk  my  life  to  put 
down  that  spirit  of  mad  democracy  which  sought  to  subvert 
all  legal  institutions,  and  to  support  every  true  principle  of 
the  constitution  which  protected  us  ; but  at  the  same  time  I 
must  in  truth  and  candour  say,  and  I say  it  with  reluctance, 
that  during  those  most  sanguinary  scenes  the  brutal  conduct 
of  certain  frantic  royalists  was  at  least  on  a parallel  with  that 
of  the  frantic  rebels. 

A short  time  after  the  recapture  of  Wexford,  I traversed 
that  county,  to  see  the  ruins  which  had  been  occasioned  by 
warfare.  Enniscorthy  had  been  twice  stormed,  and  was 
dilapidated  and  nearly  burned.  New  Ross  shewed  most 
melancholy  relics  of  the  obstinate  and  bloody  battle  of  full 
ten  hours’  duration,  which  had  been  fought  in  every  street  of 
it.  The  numerous  pits  crammed  with  dead  bodies,  on  Vine- 
gar Hill,  seemed  on  some  spots  actually  elastic  as  we  stood 
upon  them  ; whilst  the  walls  of  an  old  windmill  on  its 


IRISH  REBELLION. 


171 


summit  appeared  stained  and  splashed  with  the  blood  and 
brains  of  many  victims  who  had  been  piked  or  shot  against 
it  by  the  rebels.  The  court  house  of  Enniscorthy,  wherein 
our  troops  had  burned  alive  above  eighty  of  the  wounded 
rebels,  and  the  barn  of  Scullabogue,  where  the  rebels  had 
retaliated  by  burning  alive  above  one  hundred  and  twenty 
Protestants,  were  terrific  ruins  ! The  town  of  Gorey  was 
utterly  destroyed,  not  a house  being  left  perfect  ; and  the 
bodies  of  the  killed  were  lying  half  covered  in  sundry  ditches 
in  its  vicinity.  It  was  here  that  Colonel  Walpole  had  been 
defeated  and  killed  a few  days  before.  No  man  ever  came 
to  a violent  death  more  unwarily  ! Colonel  Walpole 
was  a peculiarly  handsome  man,  and  aide-de-camp  to  Lord 
Camden.  With  somewhat  of  the  air  of  a petit-maitre,  he 
fluttered  much  about  the  drawing  room  of  the  Castle  ; but 
as  he  had  not  seen  actual  service,  he  felt  a sort  of  military 
inferiority  to  veterans  who  had  spent  the  early  part  of  their 
lives  in  blowing  other  people’s  brains  out  ; and  he  earnestly 
begged  to  be  entrusted  with  some  command  that  might  give 
him  an  opportunity  of  fighting  for  a few  weeks  in  the 
County  Wexford,  and  of  writing  some  elegant  dispatches  to 
his  Excellency  the  Lord  Lieutenant.  The  Lord  Lieu- 
tenant most  kindly  indulged  him  with  a body  of  troops, 
and  sent  him  to  fight  in  the  County  Wexford,  as  he  requested  ; 
but  on  passing  the  town  of  Gorey,  not  being  accustomed  to 
advanced  guards  or  flankers,  he  overlooked  such  trifles 
altogether  ! and  having  got  into  a defile  with  some  cannon 
and  the  Antrim  regiment,  in  a few  minutes  the  colonel  was 
shot  through  the  head,  the  cannon  changed  masters,  and 
most  of  the  Antrim  heroes  had  each  a pike,  ten  or  twelve 
feet  long,  sticking  in  his  carcass. — “ Sjc  transit  gloria 
mundi 

An  unaccountable  circumstance  was  witnessed  by  me 
on  that  tour  immediately  after  the  retaking  of  Wexford. 
General  Lake,  as  I had  before  mentioned,  had  ordered  the 


172 


Barrington’s  recollections. 


heads  of  Mr.  Grogan,  Captain  Keogh,  Mr.  Bagenal  Harvey, 
and  Mr.  Colclough  to  be  placed  on  very  low  spikes,  over 
the  court-house  door  of  Wexford.  A faithful  servant  of 
Mr.  Grogan  had  taken  away  his  head  ; but  the  other  three 
remained  there  when  I visited  the  town.  The  mutilated 
countenances  of  friends  and  relatives  in  such  a situation 
would,  it  may  be  imagined,  give  any  man  most  horrifying 
sensations  ! The  heads  of  Messrs.  Colclough  and  Harvey 
appeared  black  lumps,  the  features  being  utterely  undis- 
tinguishable  ; that  of  Keogh  was  uppermost,  but  the  air  had 
made  no  impression  on  it  whatever  ! His  comely  and 
respect-inspiring  face,  except  the  pale  hue,  scarcely  to  be 
called  livid , was  the  same  as  in  life,  his  eyes  were  not  closed, 
his  hair  not  much  ruffled  ; in  fact,  it  appeared  to  me  rather 
as  a head  of  chiselled  marble,  with  glass  eyes,  than  as  the 
lifeless  remains  of  a human  creature.  This  circumstance  I 
never  could  get  any  medical  man  to  give  me  the  least  ex- 
planation of.  I prevailed  on  General  Hunter,  who  then 
commanded  in  Wexford,  to  suffer  the  three  heads  to  be 
taken  down  and  buried; 


WOLFE  TONE. 


173 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

WOLFE  TONE. 

Theobald  Wolfe  Tone  was  one  of  the  most  remarkable  of 
the  persons  who  lost  their  lives  in  consequence  of  that  wild 
democratic  mania  which,  at  the  period  treated  of  in  the 
former  sketch,  had  seized  upon  the  reason  of  so  many  other- 
wise sensible  individuals.  His  catastrophe  cannot  fail  to  be 
interesting. 

This  gentleman's  enthusiastic  mind  was  eternally  sur- 
rounded by  the  mist  of  visionary  speculation  : it  was  a fine 
sailer,  but  wanted  ballast.  He  had  distinguished  himself 
somewhat  in  the  University  as  a desultory  declaimer  ; but  in 
my  judgment  that  was  the  full  extent  of  his  powers.  He 
was  neither  high-born  nor  wealthy  ; in  fact,  I fear  even  a 
steady  competency  was  not  at  his  command,  and  hence 
his  spirit,  naturally  restless,  was  additionally  goaded  and 
inflamed. 

It  is  a curious  circumstance  that  Mr.  Tone,  a decided 
revolutionist  and  rebel,  married  improvidently  enough  one 
sister,  whilst  Mr.  Thomas  Reynolds,  who  betrayed  the 
friends  of  Tone  and  of  himself,  espoused  another. 

Tone  was  called  to  the  Irish  bar,  but  had  been  previously 
over-rated,  and  did  not  succeed.  I thought  it  a pity,  as  he 
was  really  a good-hearted  person,  that  he  should  not  be 
fairly  tried,  and,  if  possible,  pushed  forward;  and  being 
myself  high  on  the  circuit,  I took  him  round  in  my  carriage 
three  times,  and  then  thought  well  of  him  ; but  he  was  too 
light  and  visionary,  and  as  for  law,  was  quite  incapable  of 
imbibing  that  species  of  science.  His  person  was  un- 
favourable, his  countenance  thin  and  sallow,  and  he  had 
in  his  speech  a harsh  guttural  pronunciation  of  the  letter  i?, 


174  Barrington’s  recollections. 

a defect  shared  by  him  in  common  with  Mr.  Croker,  of  the 
Admiralty,  who,  indeed,  resembled  him  in  personal  appear- 
ance greatly,  but  was  somewhat  Tone’s  inferior  in  elocution. 

It  is  my  belief  that  Tone  could  not  have  succeeded  in 
any  steady  civil  profession.  He  was  not  worldly  enough, 
nor  had  he  sufficient  common-sense  for  his  guidance.  His 
biography  has  been  repeatedly  published,  and  I only  intend 
here  to  allude  to  the  extraordinary  circumstances  of  his 
death — an  event  upon  which  I confess  I had  many  painful 
feelings,  and  not  the  less  so  from  its  being  connected  with 
my  own  judicial  functions. 

He  had  been  taken  in  arms  by  Sir  John  Borlase  Warren, 
at  sea,  in  a French  frigate,  proceeding  to  land  troops  in 
Ireland.  He  wore  the  uniform  of  a French  officer  ; but 
being  recognised,  brought  prisoner  to  Dublin,  and  delivered 
over  for  trial  to  the  provost-marshal  and  military  authorities, 
he  was,  of  course,  condemned  to  be  hanged.  I did  not  see 
him  under  these  distressing  circumstances,  nor  in  truth  was 
it  my  wish  to  do  so  ; for  although  there  existed  between  us 
no  actual  friendship,  still  I had  a strong  feeling  for  a gentle- 
man with  whom  I had  been  so  well  acquainted. 

It  occurred  to  his  counsel  that  the  jurisdiction  of  martial- 
law  could  not  extend  to  him,  as  it  only  operated  on  land, 
and  he  had  been  taken  at  sea.  An  application  was,  therefore, 
made  to  the  Common  Pleas  to  have  him  brought  up  by 
Habeas  Corpus,  in  order  (the  point  being  ascertained)  to 
be  regualrly  tried  before  the  competent  tribunal,  the  court 
of  Admiralty.  The  Habeas  Corpus  being  granted,  was 
served  on  General  Craig,  who  then  commanded  in  Dublin, 
but  who  refused  to  obey  it,  and  was  attached  for  his  dis- 
obedience ; an  order  being  consequently  made  for  the 
general  and  some  of  his  staff  to  be  taken  into  custody  by 
the  officers  of  the  court. 

To  me,  as  Judge  of  the  Admiralty,  this  appeal  was  most 
distressing.  Flad  Tone  the  least  chance  of  escape  in  any 


WOLFE  TONE. 


*75 


court,  or  upon  any  trial,  it  might  have  been  otherwise,  but 
he  could  not  be  defended  ; and  to  have  him  brought  before 
me  only  to  witness  his  conviction,  and  to  pronounce  his 
sentence,  shocked  me  extremely.  His  friends  thought  this 
course  might  prolong  his  fate  a considerable  time,  and  it 
was  supposed  that  something  might  intermediately  occur 
calculated  to  effect  a commutation  of  the  capital  punish- 
ment. I knew  better  ! I was  convinced  that  his  execution 
was  determined  on — it  wTas  unavoidable,  and  I felt  great 
uneasiness. 

The  court  having  ordered  General  Craig  and  Major 
Sandys,  provost-marshal,  to  be  arrested  for  disobedience, 
both  these  gentlemen  submitted,  and  the  pursuivant  was 
then  directed  to  bring  up  the  body  of  Theobald  Wolfe 
Tone,  on  the  writ  of  Habeas  Corpus.  The  judges  sat 
patiently  awaiting  the  officer’s  return,  and  the  decision 
being  of  great  importance,  the  court  was  crowded  to 
suffocation. 

A considerable  time  elapsed,  and  still  the  pursuivant 
returned  not.  At  length  he  appeared  with  horror  in  his 
looks,  and  scarcely  able  to  speak.  He  informed  the  court 
that  Mr.  Tone,  feeling  certain  of  execution  by  order  of  the 
military,  and  being  ignorant  of  the  motion  which  his  friends 
thought  might  give  him  some  chance  for  his  life,  had  cut  his 
throat  from  ear  to  ear,  and,  he  believed,  was  dying  ! A 
surgeon  now  attended,  who  reported  that  the  prisoner  had 
certainly  cut  his  throat,  but  that  recovery  was  possible  ; the 
incision  was  long  and  deep,  but  had  missed  the  artery,  and 
he  still  lived.  Of  course,  the  trial  was  postponed  ; every 
friend  he  had,  and  I think  he  had  many  amongst  the  bar, 
rejoicing  that  poor  Tone  had  escaped  a public  execution. 
He  lingered  awhile,  and  will  it  be  believed,  that  when  the 
wound  had  been  connected,  and  whilst  life  still  seemed  to 
be  precarious,  owing  to  the  extreme  inflammation — I say, 
will  it  be  believed  that  there  existed  cruelty  sufficient  in  the 


176 


Barrington’s  recollections. 


breast  of  any  human  creature  to  advise  his  execution, 
though  it  would  have  been  impossible  to  put  the  sentence 
in  force  without  inserting  the  rope  within  the  wound,  and 
nearly  tearing  away  the  unfortunate  gentleman’s  head  from 
his  body  ? Yet  such  advice  was  given  for  “ the  sake  of 
example,”  and  rejected,  I am  happy  to  say,  with  horror  ! I 
will  spare  the  man  who  gave  it  the  ignominy  which  would 
thence  attach  to  his  name  were  it  mentioned. 


DUBLIN  ELECTION 


I?? 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

DUBLIN  ELECTION. 

In  1803  I had  become  particularly  popular  in  Dublin.  I 
was  not  at  enmity  with  any  sect  or  any  party.  The  losses 
and  deprivations  which  the  citizens  of  Dublin  were  suffering 
in  consequence  of  the  Union  brought  to  their  recollection 
the  fact  of  my  having  been  one  of  its  most  zealous  opponents. 
They  knew  that  I had  entertained  professional  ambition  ; 
and  they  also  knew  that  in  order  to  oppose  that  measure, 
and  support  the  independence  of  the  nation  as  well  as  my 
own,  I had  with  open  eyes  sacrificed  all  the  objects  of  my 
ambition  ; that  I had  refused  the  most  gratifying  proposals, 
and  in  maintenance  of  principle  had  set  my  face  decidedly 
against  the  measures  of  that  Government  which  I had  on 
other  occasions  supported,  and  which  alone  possessed  the 
power  to  advance  me.  They  knew  that  I had  braved  the 
animosity  of  Chancellor  Clare,  whom  few  had  ever  ventured 
to  oppose  so  decidedly  as  myself ; and  that  I had  utterly 
renounced  Lord  Castlereagh,  by  whom  all  means  were  em- 
ployed to  attach  me.  In  fact,  the  citizens  of  Dublin 
recollected  that  I had  abandoned  every  prospect  in  life  to 
uphold  their  interest,  and  consequently  many  persons  on 
both  sides  of  politics  had  proposed  to  me  to  become  a 
candidate  for  the  representation  of  the  metropolis  in  Parlia- 
ment. Some  entire  corporations  voted  me  their  freedom 
and  support,  and  a great  number  of  the  freeholders  tendered 
me  their  aid.  Having  in  addition  an  extensive  personal 
interest  of  my  own,  I at  length  determined  to  stand  the 
contest. 

Persons  of  the  first  weight  and  rank  came  forward  in  my 
favour,  and  amongst  these  I am  proud  to  enumerate  his 

(D  311) 


N 


178  Barrington’s  recollections. 

Grace  the  Duke  of  Leinster,  Mr.  Grattan,  Mr.  George 
Ponsonby,  Mr.  Curran,  Mr.  Plunkett,  several  of  the  most 
respectable  members  of  my  own  profession,  and  many 
private  gentlemen.  Indeed,  the  mode  wherein  I was 
brought  forward,  and  the  parties  by  whom  I was  encouraged, 
could  not  but  combine  to  gratify  me  highly. 

The  city,  however,  immediately  divided  into  two  invete- 
rate factions,  one  of  which  declared  for  Mr.  Beresford,  the 
banker,  and  Mr.  Ogle,  the  Orange  chieftain  ; whilst  the  other 
supported  Mr.  Latouche  and  myself.  A fifth  gentleman, 
Sir  John  Jervoise  White  Jervoise,  Bart.,  also  announced 
himself  a candidate,  on  the  strength  of  his  own  personal 
connexions  and  individual  property  in  the  city,  backed  by 
any  second  votes  he  could  pick  up  amongst  the  rest. 

Dublin  differs  from  London  in  this  respect,  inasmuch  as 
there  must  be  an  individual  canvass,  requiring  hard  labour 
of  at  least  two  months  or  ten  weeks,  by  day  and  by  night, 
to  get  through  it  cleverly.  One  custom  alone  takes  up  an 
immensity  of  time,  which,  though  I believe  it  never  existed 
anywhere  else,  has  good  sense  to  recommend  it.  The  grand 
corporation  of  Dublin  comprises  twenty-five  minor  corpor- 
ations or  trades,  each  independent  of  the  other,  and  all 
knowing  their  own  importance  previous  to  an  election, 
and  their  insignificance  after  it  is  over,  affect  the  state  and 
authority  of  a Venetian  senate,  and  say,  shrewdly  enough, 
“ How  can  we  ignorant  men  ! tell  who  is  fittest  to  represent 
Dublin  till  we  have  an  opportunity  of  knowing  their 
abilities  ? ” And  for  the  purpose  of  acquiring  this  know- 
ledge, each  corporation  appoints  a day  to  receive  the 
candidates  in  due  formality  in  its  hall,  and  each  candidate 
is  then  called  on  to  make  an  oration,  in  order  to  give  the 
electors  power  of  judging  as  to  his  capability  to  speak  in 
Parliament.  So  that,  in  the  progress  of  his  canvass,  every 
candidate  must  make  twenty-four  or  twenty-six  speeches 
in  his  best  style  ! Nothing  can  be  more  amusing  than  the 


DUBLIN  ELECTION. 


179 


gravity  and  decorum  wherewith  the  journeyman  barbers,* 
hosiers,  skinners,  cooks,  etc.,  receive  the  candidates,  listen 
to  their  fine  florid  harangues,  and  then  begin  to  debate 
amongst  themselves  as  to  their  comparative  merits,  and, 
in  truth,  assume  as  much  importance  as  the  diplomatists  at 
Vienna,  with  intentions  to  the  full  as  good  ! 

However,  I got  through  my  canvass  of  nearly  three 
months,  and  remained  tolerably  in  my  senses  at  the 
conclusion  of  it,  though  most  undoubtedly  I drank  as 
much  porter  and  whisky  with  the  electors  themselves,  and 
as  much  tea  and  cherry-brandy  with  their  wives,  as  would 
have  ended  my  days  on  any  other  occasion.  But  I loved 
the  people  of  Dublin  ; I had  lived  more  than  thirty  years 
amongst  them,  was  upon  good  terms  with  all  parties  and 
societies,  and  if  elected,  I should  have  been  a very  faithful 
and,  I trust,  an  effective  representative. 

The  humours  of  an  Irish  canvass  can  only  be  known  to 
those  who  have  witnessed  them  ; and  I believe  no  election, 
even  in  Ireland,  ever  gave  rise  to  more  of  what  is  termed 
real  fun.  Most  of  the  incidents  are  too  trivial  and  too  local 
for  detail  ; but  there  were  some  so  ludicrous,  that,  even  at 
this  moment,  I can  scarce  refrain  from  laughing  at  their 
recollection. 

Never  was  a business  of  the  kind  conducted  with  more 
spirit,  and  at  the  same  time  a degree  of  good  temper 
prevailed,  not  to  have  been  expected  in  a contest  which 
called  into  play  the  most  fiery  and  rancorous  party  feelings  ; 
and  the  genuine  stream  of  humour  that  steadily  flowed  on 
had  a great  effect  in  washing  away  any  marks  of  ill  blood. 
It  is  with  pride  I relate  that  the  four  voters  who  formed  my 
first  tally  were — Mr.  George  Ponsonby,  afterwards  Lord 
Chancellor  ; Mr.  Henry  Grattan  ; Mr.  William  Plunkett, 
the  present  Attorney- General  ; and  Mr.  John  Philpott 

* Who  very  lately  addressed  the  Duke  of  York  as  “ the  corporation 
of  surgeons,”  i.e.y  barber-surgeons . 


180  Barrington’s  recollections. 

Curran,  afterwards  Master  of  the  Rolls  ; and  that  the  two 
former  accompanied  their  votes  by  far  more  than  merited 
eulogies. 

I lost  the  election  ; but  I polled  to  the  end  of  the  fifteen 
days,  and  had  the  gratification  of  thinking  that  I broke  the 
knot  of  a virulent  ascendency,  was  the  means  of  Mr. 
Latouche’s  success,  and  likewise  of  Mr.  Grattan’s  subsequent 
return. 

In  the  course  of  that  election  many  curious  incidents 
occurred  ; and  as  everything  which  relates  to  Mr.  Grattan, 
and  tends  to  elucidate  the  character  and  peculiarities  of 
the  most  pure  and  eminent  of  my  countrymen,  must  neces- 
sarily be  interesting,  anecdotes  which,  if  not  recorded  now  by 
me,  would  be  lost  for  ever,  I feel  myself  justified  in  detail- 
ing a few,  though  in  themselves  of  no  particular  importance. 

In  the  days  of  unsophisticated  patriotism,  when  the  very 
name  of  Grattan  operated  as  a spell  to  rouse  the  energies 
and  spirit  of  his  country — when  the  schisms  of  party  bigotry 
had  yielded  to  the  common  weal,  and  public  men  obtained 
that  public  gratitude  which  they  merited — the  corporation 
of  Dublin  obtained  a full-length  portrait  of  Henry  Grattan, 
then  termed  their  great  deliverer.  His  name  graced  their 
corporate  rolls  as  an  hereditary  freeman — Mr.  Grattan’s 
father  having  been  Recorder  of  Dublin  and  representative 
in  Parliament  for  that  city — when  the  jealous  malice  of  that 
rancorous  and  persevering  enemy  of  every  man  opposed  to 
him,  the  Earl  of  Clare,  in  a secret  committee  of  the  House 
of  Lords  introduced  into  their  report  some  lines  of  a deposi- 
tion by  one  Hughes,  a rebel  who  had  been  made  a witness, 
and  was  induced  to  coin  evidence  to  save  his  own  life, 
detailing  a conversation  which  he  alleged  himself  to  have 
had  with  Mr.  Grattan,  wherein  the  latter  had  owned  that 
he  was  a United  Irishman.  Everybody  knew  the  total 
falsity  of  this.  Indeed,  Mr.  Grattan  was,  on  the  other 
hand,  a man  whose  principles  has  been  on  certain  occasions 


DUBLIN  ELECTION. 


181 


considered  too  aristocratic,  and  yet  he  was  now  denounced, 
in  the  slang  of  the  Lord  Chancellor,  “ an  infernal  democrat  .” 
The  corporation  of  Dublin  caught  the  sound,  and,  without 
one  atom  of  inquiry,  tore  down  from  their  walls  the  portrait 
which  had  done  them  so  much  honour,  and  expelled  Grattan 
from  the  corporation  without  trial  or  even  notice  ; thus  pro- 
claiming one  of  the  most  loyal  and  constitutional  subjects  of 
the  British  Empire  to  be  a rebel  and  incendiary.  He 
despised  and  took  no  notice  of  their  extravagance. 

On  the  election  in  question,  I was  proposed  by  Mr. 
George  Ponsonby  ; and  upon  Mr.  Grattan  rising  next  to 
vote  upon  my  tally,  he  was  immediately  objected  to,  as 
having  been  expelled  on  the  report  of  Lord  Clare’s  com- 
mittee. A burst  of  indignation  on  the  one  side,  and  of 
boisterous  declamation  on  the  other,  forthwith  succeeded. 
It  was  of  an  alarming  nature  ; Grattan  meanwhile  standing 
silent,  and  regarding  with  a smile  of  the  most  ineffable  con- 
tempt ever  expressed,  his  shameless  accusers.  The  objec- 
tion was  made  by  Mr.  John  Giffard,  of  whom  hereafter.  On 
the  first  intermission  of  the  tumult,  with  a calm  and  dignified 
air,  but  in  that  energetic  style  and  tone  so  peculiar  to  himself, 
Mr.  Grattan  delivered  the  following  memorable  words — 
memorable,  because  conveying  in  a few  short  sentences  the 
most  overwhelming  philippic — the  most  irresistible  assem- 
blage of  terms  imputing  public  depravity — that  the  English 
or,  I believe,  any  other  language  is  capable  of  affording  : 

4 4 Mr.  Sheriff,  when  I observe  the  quarter  from  whence 
the  objection  comes,  I am  not  surprised  at  its  being  made  ! 
It  proceeds  from  the  hired  traducer  of  his  country — the 
excommunicated  of  his  fellow-citizens — the  regal  rebel — the 
unpunished  ruffian — the  bigoted  agitator  ! In  the  city  a 
firebrand — in  the  court  a liar — in  the  streets  a bully — in  the 
field  a coward  ! And  so  obnoxious  is  he  to  the  very  party 
he  wishes  to  espouse,  that  he  is  only  supportable  by  doing 
those  dirty  acts  the  less  vile  refuse  to  execute.” 


Barrington’s  recollections. 


182 

Giffard,  thunderstruck,  lost  his  usual  assurance,  and 
replied,  in  one  single  sentence,  “ I would  spit  upon  him 
in  a desert  ! ” which  vapid  and  unmeaning  exclamation  was 
his  sole  retort. 

I called  for  the  roll,  and,  on  inspection,  Mr.  Grattan’s 
name  appeared  never  to  have  been  erased.  Of  course,  the 
objection  was  overruled,  my  friend  voted,  and  his  triumph 
was  complete. 

The  erasure  of  his  name  from  the  roll  was  never  afterwards 
attempted  ; and  on  the  dissolution  of  that  Parliament,  he 
was  requested  by  the  very  same  body  to  stand  forward  as 
their  “ most  illustrious  countryman,”  and  elected  by  accla- 
mation in  that  very  same  court-house,  as  the  representative  of 
the  city  and  corporation  which  had  so  recently  endeavoured 
to  debase  and  destroy  him,  his  chairing  being  attended 
with  enthusiasm  by  those  who  some  time  before  wTould  with 
equal  zeal  have  attended  his  execution.  Never  was  there 
exhibited  a more  complete  proof  of  causeless  popular 
versatility — which,  indeed,  was  repeatedly  practised  on  that 
real  patriot. 

Mr.  John  Giffard,  the  subject  of  the  foregoing  philippic, 
was  a very  remarkable  person.  He  had  a great  deal  of 
vulgar  talent,  a daring  impetuosity,  and  was  wholly  indif- 
ferent to  opinion.  From  first  to  last  he  fought  his  way 
through  the  world,  and  finally  worked  himself  up  to  be  the 
most  sturdy  partisan  I ever  recollect  in  the  train  of  Govern- 
ment. His  detestation  of  the  Pope  and  his  adoration  of 
King  William  he  carried  to  an  excess  quite  ridiculous  ; in 
fact,  on  both  subjects  he  seemed  occasionally  delirious. 
His  life  had  many  curious  incidents  connected  with  it  ; and 
as  it  would  be  wrong  that  a name  so  frequently  occurring  in 
the  local  history  of  Ireland  should  remain  unnoticed,  I have, 
therefore,  in  these  fragments  introduced  it. 

I did  not  agree  with  Mr.  Grattan  as  to  all  the  epithets 
wherewith  he  honoured  the  captain.  “ A coward  ” he  most 


DUBLIN  ELECTION. 


i83 


certainly  was  not.  With  all  his  faults  or  crimes,  if  they 
should  be  called  so,  he  had  several  qualities  which  in  social 
intercourse  are  highly  valuable  ; and  hence  it  is  just  to 
make  a clear  distinction  between  his  private  and  his  public 
character.  He  was  as  warm-hearted  and  friendly  a person 
as  I ever  met  with  ; and,  on  the  other  hand,  a bitterer 
enemy  never  existed  ; I don’t  think  he  ever  was  mine. 

Giffard  was  originally  an  apothecary.  When  I was  at  the 
Dublin  University,  the  students  were  wild  and  lawless — any 
offence  to  one  was  considered  as  an  offence  to  all  ; and  as 
the  elder  sons  of  most  men  of  rank  and  fortune  in  Ireland 
were  then  educated  at  Dublin  College,  it  was  dangerous  to 
meddle  with  so  powerful  a set  of  students,  who  consequently 
did  precisely  what  they  chose  outside  the  college  gates.  If 
they  conceived  offence  against  anybody,  the  collegians  made 
no  scruple  of  bringing  the  offender  into  the  court,  and 
pumping  him  well  ; and  their  unanimity  and  numbers  were 
so  great,  that  it  was  quite  impossible  any  youth  could  be 
selected  for  punishment.  In  my  time  we  used  to  break 
open  what  houses  we  pleased  ! — regularly  beating  the  watch 
every  night,  except  in  one  parish,  which  we  always  kept  in 
pay,  to  lend  us  their  poles  wherewith  to  fight  the  others. 
In  short,  our  conduct  was  outrageous  ; and  the  first  check 
we  ever  received  was  from  Giffard,  who  was  a director  of  the 
watch,  and  kept  a shop  close  to  the  Parliament  House. 

He  having  in  some  way  annoyed  the  collegians,  they 
determined  to  pump  Giffard  ; but  they  reckoned  without 
their  host  ! He  entrenched  himself  in  his  house,  which  we 
assailed,  breaking  all  his  windows.  He  gave  repeated 
warnings  to  no  purpose ; and  a new  assault  being  commenced, 
Giffard  fired  a pistol,  and  a collegian  was  wounded  in  the 
wrist,  whereupon  the  besiegers  immediately  retired  from  the 
fortress. 

It  was  a lucky  shot  for  Giffard,  who  immediately  obtained 
some  parochial  office  for  his  firmness — made  himself  of 


184 


Barrington’s  recollections. 


importance  on  every  trifling  subject,  and  harangued  con- 
stantly in  the  vestry.  Of  his  subsequent  progress  I know 
nothing  till  about  the  year  1790,  when  I became  a public 
character,  and  found  Giffard  an  attache  to  the  Castle  in 
divers  capacities.  He  was  afterwards  placed  in  the  revenue 
department,  became  a common  councilman,  and  at  length 
high  sheriff,  at  which  epoch  he  acquired  the  title  which 
forsook  him  not,  of  “ The  Dog  in  Office”  though  wherefore 
I could  never  rightly  make  out.  His  acts  from  that  period 
became  part  of  the  general  statistical  history  of  Irish  politics. 
One  of  his  sons  was  butchered  in  cool  blood  by  the  rebels 
a c Kildare,  which  naturally  increased  his  ferocity.  His 
eldest  son,  Harding  Giffard,  and  Mr.  Croker,  of  the  Admi- 
ralty, married  two  sisters  in  Waterford.  Mr.  Croker’s  good 
luck  enabled  him  to  aid  his  relative,  who,  having  tried  the 
Irish  bar  in  vain  for  several  years,  has  become  Chief  Justice 
of  Ceylon — Mr.  Croker  himself,  after  his  unsuccessful  pro- 
fessional essay,  being  casually  indebted  to  several  persons  of 
celebrity  for  his  very  rapid  elevation. 

During  the  election  we  are  speaking  of,  one  Horish,  a 
master  chimney-sweeper,  appeared  on  the  hustings.  This 
man  being  known  to  have  several  votes  at  command 
besides  his  own,  had  been  strongly  canvassed,  but  would 
promise  neither  of  the  candidates,  nor  give  the  least  hint 
how  he  intended  to  vote. 

During  the  rebellion  of  1798,  Mr.  John  Beresford,  one  of 
the  candidates,  had  built  a riding-house  for  his  yeomanry 
troop,  which  had  been  also  much  used  as  a place  for  whip- 
ping suspected  persons  in,  to  make  them  discover  what  in  all 
probability  they  never  knew — a practice  equally  just  and 
humane,  and  liberally  resorted  to,  perhaps  for  sport,  by 
military  officers  pending  that  troublous  era. 

In  Mr.  Beresford’s  riding-house  this  infernal  system  was 
carried  on  to  a greater  extent  than  in  any  of  the  similar 
slaughter-houses  then  tolerated  in  the  metropolis — to  such 


DUBLIN  ELECTION. 


I8S 

an  extent,  indeed,  that  some  Irish  wags,  who  never  fail  even 
upon  the  most  melancholy  occasions  to  exercise  their  native 
humour,  had  one  night  the  words,  “ Mangling  done  here  by 
J.  Beresford  & Co.,”  painted  upon  a signboard,  and  fixed 
over  the  entrance. 

It  happened  that  this  same  Horish  had  been  amongst 
those  who  had  paid  to  their  king  and  country  a full  share  of 
skin  for  the  crime  of  being  anonymously  suspected.  He 
had  not  forgotten  the  couple  of  hundred  lashes  on  his  bare 
carcass  which  he  had  received  in  Mr.  Beresford’s  riding- 
house  ; but  the  circumstance,  being  of  such  an  ordinary 
nature,  was,  of  course,  totally  forgotten  by  the  worthy 
candidate,  notwithstanding  the  tenacious  sensation  of  the 
elector’s  loins,  where  many  a good  thick  welt  remained  to 
remind  him  of  the  pastime. 

Horish,  a coarse,  rough-looking,  strong-built,  indepen- 
dent, and  at  the  moment  well-dressed  brute  of  a fellow, 
remained  quite  coquettish  as  to  his  votes.  “ Let  me  see  ! ” 
said  he,  feeling  his  importance,  and  unwilling  to  part  with  it, 
which  would  be  the  case  the  moment  he  had  polled,  and 
looking  earnestly  at  all  the  candidates,  “ Let  me  see  ! who 
shall  I vote  for  ? I’m  very  hard  to  please,  gentlemen,  I 
assure  you  ! ” He  hesitated  ; we  all  pressed.  “ Fair  and 
easy,  gentlemen,”  said  Horish,  looking  at  each  of  us  again, 
“ don’t  hurry  a man  ! ” 

“ Barrington,”  cried  impatient  Beresford,  “ I know  that 
honest  fellow,  Horish,  will  vote  for  me  ! ” Horish  started, 
but  said  nothing. 

“ Indeed,  he  will  not,”  replied  I,  “ eh,  Horish  ? ” Horish 
looked,  but  remained  silent. 

“ I’ll  lay  you  a rump  and  dozen”  exclaimed  Beresford, 
“ on  the  matter  ! ” 

Horish  now  started  into  a sort  of  animation,  but  coolly 
replied/  “ You’ll  lose  that  same  rump  and  dozen,  Mr. 
Beresford  ! ’twas  many  a dozen  you  gave  my  r — p already  in 


Barrington’s  recollections. 


i 86 

the  riding-house,  and  to  the  devil  I bob  that  kind  of  enter- 
tainment ! but  if  ever  I have  the  honour  of  meeting  you  up 
a chimney,  depend  on  it,  Mr.  Beresford,  I’ll  treat  you  with 
all  the  civility  imaginable  ! Come,  boys,  we’ll  poll  away 
for  the  counsellor  ! ” and  I was  supported,  I believe,  by 
every  chimney-sweeper  in  the  city  of  Dublin,  and  they 
were  many,  who  had  votes. 


ELECTION  FOR  COUNTY  WEXFORD. 


I87 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

ELECTION  FOR  COUNTY  WEXFORD. 

It  is  to  be  lamented  that  the  biographers  and  eulogists  of 
Richard  Brinsley  Sheridan  should  have  suppressed  some  of 
the  most  creditable  incidents  of  his  variegated  life,  whilst 
his  memory  is  disgraced  by  pretended  friends  and  literary 
admirers. 

These  writers  have  raked  up  from  his  ashes,  and  exposed 
to  public  indignation,  every  failing  of  that  great  and  gifted 
man  ; so  that,  if  their  own  productions  were  by  any  chance 
to  become  permanent,  they  would  senck-him  down  to  pos- 
terity as  a witty  but  low  and  dissipated  sharper , or,  in  their 
very  best  colouring,  as  the  most  talented  of  mean  and  worth- 
less mendicants.  But  Sheridan’s  repucation  will  outlive  all 
such  attempts  to  obliterate  it  ; whilst  the  ignorance  of  his 
libellers  is  conspicuous  from  their  entire  omission  of  some  of 
the  most  interesting  events  of  his  career,  at  the  same  time 
that  others  are  vouched  for,  which  to  my  individual  know- 
ledge are  gross  misrepresentations. 

Amongst  the  incidents  that  have  been  overlooked  is  one 
both  extraordinary  and  melancholy,  and  forming  an  honour- 
able comment  on  Mr.  Sheridan’s  public  character.  I was 
myself  mentally  interested  in  the  whole  transaction,  and  can, 
therefore,  give  it  on  my  own  responsibility.  I am,  indeed, 
most  anxious  to  rescue  his  memory  from  the  rough  hands 
which,  in  sketching  their  subject,  have  placed  the  mane  of 
the  lion  upon  the  shoulders  of  a mountebank. 

In  speaking  thus,  I deeply  regret  that  one  of  these  bio- 
graphers should  be  a man  whom  I esteem,  and  I regret  it 
the  more,  since  he  has  used  poor  Sheridan  as  a chopping- 
block  whereon  to  hack  the  character  of  the  most  illustrious 


1 88 


Barrington’s  recollections. 


person  of  the  British  Empire,  who,  for  the  first  time  in  his 
life,  I believe,  has  been  accused  of  pecuniary  illiberality.  A 
circumstance  accidentally  came  to  my  knowledge  to  prove 
that  charge  the  very  reverse  of  truth.  But  an  opportunity 
will  be  taken  by  me  of  observing  still  more  explicitly  on 
these  friends  of  Mr.  Sheridan. 

On  the  general  election  of  1808,  Mr.  John  Colclough,  of 
Tintern  Abbey,  County  Wexford,  a near  relative  of  mine, 
and  locum  tenens  of  his  elder  brother,  Mr.  Caesar  Colclough, 
who  had  been  long  resident  on  the  Continent,  declared 
himself  for  the  second  time  candidate  for  Wexford  County, 
which  he  had  represented  in  the  previous  Parliament.  The 
Colclough  estates  were  large,  the  freeholders  thereon 
numerous,  and  devoted  to  the  interest  of  their  patriotic 
leader,  whose  uncle,  Mr.  John  Grogan,  of  Johnstown 
Castle,  also  a relative  of  mine,  possessed  of  a very  large  fortune 
and  extensive  tenantry,  had  united  with  his  nephew  and 
other  most  respectable  and  independent  gentlemen  of  that 
county  to  liberate  its  representation  from  the  trammels  of 
certain  noblemen  who  had  for  many  years  usurped  its 
domination.  Mr.  Colclough  was  determined  to  put  the 
pride,  spirit,  and  patriotism  of  the  county  to  proof,  and, 
therefore,  proposed  Mr.  Richard  Brinsley  Sheridan  as 
joint  candidate  with  himself,  declaring  that  he  was  authorised 
by  the  independent  freeholders  of  the  county  to  say  that 
they  should  feel  the  greatest  gratification  in  being  repre- 
sented by  so  distinguished  an  ornament  to  the  name  of 
Irishman. 

Mr.  Colclough  and  Mr.  Sheridan  were,  therefore,  nomi- 
nated on  the  one  hand  ; and  Mr.  Alcock,  supported  by  the 
interest  of  the  influenced  electors,  on  the  other. 

Never  yet  was  any  poll  conducted  by  more  resolute, 
active,  and  zealous  partisans  ; but  it  is  lamentable  to  add 
that  they  were  equally  intemperate  as  zealous.  The  flame 
of  patriotism  had  caught  the  mass  of  the  population  ; tenants 


ELECTION  FOR  COUNTY  WEXFORD. 


189 


no  longer  obeyed  the  dictates  of  their  absent  landlords 
nor  the  menaces  of  tyrannic  agents  ; no  man  could  count 
on  the  votes  of  his  former  vassals.  The  hustings  was 
thronged  with  crowds  of  tenantry,  constitutionally  breaking 
away  from  their  shackles,  and  voting  according  to  their 
principles  of  free  agency  for  Sheridan — a man  known  to 
them  only  by  the  celebrity  of  his  talents.  The  poll  pro- 
ceeded— the  independent  party  was  advancing  fast  to 
success  ; and  had  the  election  continued,  there  is  no  doubt 
but  that  Mr.  Sheridan  would  have  been  a representative  for 
Wexford  County.  At  this  crisis  occurred  one  of  the  most 
unfortunate  and  melancholy  events  on  Irish  record,  and  by 
which  the  contest  was  terminated,  as  if  the  untoward 
destiny  of  Sheridan  withered  everything  that  came  in  contact 
with  it. 

Several  tenants  of  a person  who  had  given  his  interest  to 
Mr.  Alcock  absolutely  refused  to  vote  for  that  gentleman, 
declaring  that  at  every  risk  they  would  support  Colclough 
and  “ the  great  Sheridan/’  Mr.  Alcock’s  partisans  per- 
verted the  free  agency  of  these  men  into  seduction  on  the 
part  of  Mr.  Colclough,  hence  a feeling  decidedly  hostile  was 
excited  ; the  fierce  zeal  and  frenzy  of  election  partisanship 
burst  into  a flame,  and  Mr.  Colclough  was  required  to  decline 
such  votes,  or  to  receive  them  at  his  peril. 

Of  course  he  disregarded  this  outrageous  threat,  and  open 
war  ensued.  One  party  lost  sight  of  reason — both  of 
humanity  ; and  it  was  determined  that  before  the  opening 
of  next  morning’s  poll  the  candidates  should  decide,  by 
single  combat,  the  contested  question,  and,  of  course,  the 
election  itself.  With  what  indignation  and  horror 
must  such  a resolution,  at  once  assailing  law,  good  morals, 
and  decency,  be  now  regarded  ! and  how  will  the  feeling 
of  surprise  increase  from  its  being  passed  over  with  impunity ! 

Early  on  the  eventful  morning  many  hundred  people 
assembled  to  witness  the  affair  ; and  it  will  scarcely  be 


190  Barrington's  recollections. 

believed  that  no  less  than  eleven  or  twelve  county  justices 
stood  by,  passive  spectators  of  the  bloody  scene  which 
followed,  without  an  effort,  or  apparently  a wish,  to  stop  the 
proceeding. 

Both  combatants  were  remarkably  near-sighted,  and  Mr. 
Alcock  determined  on  wearing  glasses,  which  was  resisted 
by  the  friends  of  Mr.  Colclough,  who  would  wear  none. 
The  partisans  of  the  former,  however,  persevered,  and  he 
did  wear  them.  The  ground  at  length  was  marked  ; the 
anxious  crowd  separated  on  either  side,  as  their  party  feel- 
ings led  them,  but  all  seemed  to  feel  a common  sense  of 
horror  and  repugnance.  The  unfeeling  seconds  handed  to 
each  principal  a couple  of  pistols,  and  placing  them  about 
eight  or  nine  steps  asunder  withdrew,  leaving  two  gentle- 
men of  fortune  and  character,  brother  candidates  for  the 
county,  and  former  friends,  nay,  intimate  companions , stand- 
ing in  the  centre  of  a field,  without  any  personal  offence 
given  or  received,  encouraged  by  false  friends,  and  per- 
mitted by  unworthy  magistrates  to  butcher  each  other  as 
quickly  and  as  effectually  as  their  position  and  weapons 
would  admit. 

The  sight  was  awful  ! a dead  silence  and  pause  ensued  ; 
the  great  crowd  stood  in  motionless  suspense,  the  com- 
batants presented,  men  scarcely  breathed,  the  word  was 
given,  Mr.  Alcock  fired  first,  and  his  friend,  his  companion, 
one  of  the  best  men  of  Ireland,  instantly  fell  forward,  shot 
through  the  heart ! He  spoke  not;  but  turning  on  one  side, 
his  heart's  blood  gushed  forth,  his  limbs  quivered,  he 
groaned  and  expired.  His  pistol  exploded  after  he  was 
struck,  of  course  without  effect. 

The  bystanders  looked  almost  petrified  ; the  profound 
stillness  continued  for  a moment,  horror  having  seized  the 
multitude,  when  on  the  sudden  a loud  and  universal  yell,  the 
ancient  practice  of  the  Irish  peasantry  on  the  death  of  a chief- 
tain, simultaneously  burst  out  like  a peal  of  thunder  from 


ELECTION  FOR  COUNTY  WEXFORD.  191 

every  quarter  of  the  field — a yell  so  savage  and  continuous, 
so  like  the  tone  of  revenge , that  it  would  have  appalled  any 
stranger  to  the  customs  of  the  country.  Alcock  and  his 
partisans  immediately  retreated  ; those  of  Colclough 
collected  round  his  body,  and  their  candidate,  a few 
moments  before  in  health,  spirits,  and  vigour  ! was  mourn- 
fully borne  back  upon  a plank  to  the  town  of  his  nativity, 
and  carried  lifeless  through  those  very  streets  which  had 
that  morning  been  prepared  to  signalise  his  triumph. 

The  election-poll,  of  course,  proceeded  without  further 
opposition.  The  joint  friends  of  Colclough  and  Sheridan, 
deprived  of  their  support,  and  thunderstruck  at  the  event, 
thought  of  nothing  but  lamentation  ; and  in  one  hour  Mr. 
Alcock  was  declared  duly  elected  for  Wexford  County,  solely 
through  the  death  of  his  brother  candidate,  whom  he  had 
himself  that  morning  unjustly  immolated. 

A more  wanton  duel,  a more  unnecessary,  cruel,  and  in 
all  points  illegal  transaction,  never  occurred  in  the  united 
empire  ; yet,  strange  to  say,  of  those  eleven  or  twelve  magis- 
trates who  actually  stood  by,  as  amateurs  or  partisans,  in 
defiance  of  the  law  and  of  their  duty,  not  one  was  displaced 
or  punished  ! — a precedent  of  impunity  most  discreditable  to 
the  high  authorities  of  that  day,  dangerous  to  the  peace  of 
the  country,  and  subversive  of  the  first  principles  of  free 
election.  Judge  of  Sheridan’s  feelings  on  receiving  this 
intelligence  ! and  judge  of  the  correctness  of  his  biographers, 
who  have  suppressed  the  incident. 

Nor  was  poor  Colclough’s  death  the  last  act  of  the  tragedy. 
His  friends  thought  themselves  called  on  to  prosecute  Mr. 
Alcock,  who  fled,  but  subsequently  returned  and  surrendered 
for  trial.  I attended  as  special  counsel  for  the  prose- 
cution ; Baron  Smith  tried  the  cause.  The  evidence  was 
stronger  than  I have  deemed  it  necessary  to  recite.  The 
baron  stated  his  opinion  on  the  legal  distinctions  as  appli- 
cable to  duelling,  and  on  that  opinion  the  bar  differed.  It 


192 


Barrington’s  recollections. 


was  not  the  wish  of  the  prosecutors  to  do  more  than  mark 
the  transaction  by  a conviction  for  manslaughter , which  the 
law,  under  the  circumstances,  seemed  to  render  imperative. 
However,  the  then  politics  of  Wexford  juries  differed  not 
unfrequently  both  from  the  laws  of  God  and  the  statute 
book,  and  the  verdict  returned  in  this  instance  was,  to  the 
surprise  of  everyone,  a general  acquittal . 

But,  alas  ! the  acquitted  duellist  suffered  more  in  mind 
than  his  victim  had  done  in  body.  The  horror  of  the  scene, 
and  the  solemnity  of  the  trial,  combined  to  make  a fatal 
inroad  on  his  reason  ! He  became  melancholy  ; his  under- 
standing gradually  declined,  a dark  gloom  enveloped  his 
entire  intellect,  and  an  excellent  young  man  and  perfect 
gentleman  at  length  sank  into  irrecoverable  imbecility. 
Goaded  by  the  vicious  frenzy  of  election  partisans,  he  had 
slain  his  friend,  and,  haunted  by  reflection  and  sorrow,  he 
ended  his  own  days  in  personal  restraint  and  mental 
ruin. 

Two  other  duels  were  fought  upon  the  same  occasion,  but 
with  little  injury  and  still  less  interest.  Mr.  Caesar 
Colclough  has  since  returned  from  the  Continent,  and,  on 
the  strength  of  his  late  brother’s  popularity,  was  elected 
member  for  County  Wexford.  He  has  not,  however, 
followed  up  the  high  reputation  of  that  brother,  nor  very 
satisfactorily  fulfilled  the  expectations  of  his  constituents. 

But  to  this  sanguinary  and  fatal  duel  there  was  yet  another 
sad  corollary.  Miss  Alcock,  sister  of  the  member,  had  been 
most  deeply  affected  by  the  mournful  catastrophe.  She  had 
known  Colclough  long  and  intimately  ; and  being  an 
amiable  and  sensitive  young  woman,  her  brother’s  absence, 
his  trial,  and  his  subsequent  depression,  kept  the  gloomy 
transaction  alive  in  her  mind  ; hence  she  also  gradually 
wasted  ; and  the  death  of  her  brother  sinking  deeper  and 
deeper  into  a heart,  all  the  sources  of  tranquillity  whereof 
had  been  dried  up,  her  reason  wandered,  at  length  fled,  and 


ELECTION  FOR  COUNTY  WEXFORD.  1 93 

she  did  not  long  survive  the  dreadful  fate  of  her  friend 
and  of  her  brother. 

A trivial  anecdote  will  suffice  to  exhibit  the  general  state 
of  Wexford  County,  and  of  the  aristocracy  and  magistracy, 
many  of  whom  were  a disgrace  to  their  office,  and  completely 
filled  up  Mr.  Grattan’s  definition  of  a “ regal  rebel  ” by  their 
arrogance,  tyranny,  oppression,  and  disaffection.  By  these 
men  the  peasantry  were  goaded  into  a belief  that  justice  was 
banished,  and  so  driven  into  the  arms  of  the  avowed  rebels, 
who  used  every  lure  to  enforce  their  previous  delusion. 

A handsome  young  woman,  maid-servant  to  a Mrs.  Lett, 
who  was  considered  as  a great  patriot  (rebel)  in  Wexford, 
happened  one  summer’s  evening  to  sit  at  her  mistress’s 
window  singing  songs,  but  to  certain  airs  that  were  noc 
considered  orthodox  by  the  aristocracy. 

The  Marquess  of  Ely,  with  the  high  sheriff  and  other 
gentlemen  of  the  county,  were  retiring  after  their  wine  from 
the  grand  jury,  and  heard  this  unfortunate  young  siren  war- 
bling at  the  window  ; but  as  the  song  sounded  to  their  loyal 
ears  of  a rebellious  tendency,  it  was  thought  advisable  to 
demolish  the  fragile  parts  of  Mrs.  Lett’s  house-front  without 
delay  ; and  accordingly  my  lord,  the  high  sheriff,  and  their 
friends,  to  preserve  the  peace  and  protect  the  constitution 
from  such  traitorous  maid-servants,  forthwith  commenced 
their  laudable  undertaking  ; and  stones  being  the  weapons 
nearest  at  hand,  the  windows  and  the  warbling  maid  received 
a broadside,  which  was  of  the  greatest  utility  to  the  glazier, 
and  had  well-nigh  put  fees  into  the  pockets,  not  only  of 
the  surgeon,  but  of  the  sexton  and  coroner  likewise. 

However,  on  this  occasion  justice  was  not  so  far  off  as 
the  peasants  had  been  persuaded  ; my  lord,  the  high  sheriff, 
and  others,  being  indicted  and  tried,  I had  the  honour  of 
being  his  lordship’s  counsel  ; and  as  our  duty  was  to  make 
“ the  worse  appear  the  better  cause”  I certainly  did  my 
utmost  for  the  marquess  ; but  his  lordship  conceiving  my 

(&311) 


o 


i94 


Barrington’s  recollections. 


delicacy  to  the  maid-servant  rather  too  great,  requested 
permission  to  ask  her  a few  questions  himself,  which  was 
granted. 

“ Now,  girl,”  said  the  marquess,  “ by  the  oath  you  have 
taken,  did  you  not  say  you  would  split  my  skull  open  ? ” 
“ Why,  then,  by  the  virtue  of  my  oath,”  said  the  girl, 
turning  to  the  judge,  “ it  would  not  be  worth  my  while  to 
split  his  skull  open,  my  lord  ! ” 

“ Ha  ! ha  ! ” said  the  marquess,  “ now  I have  her  ! ” 
wisely  supposing  she  made  some  allusion  to  a reward  for 
killing  him  ; “ and  why , girl,  would  it  be  not  worth  your 
while  ? ” 

“ Because,  my  lord,”  answered  she,  “ if  I had  split  your 
lordship’s  skull  open,  by  virtue  of  my  oath,  I am  sure  and 
certain  I should  have  found  little  or  nothing  inside  of  it  ! ” 
The  laugh  against  the  noble  marquess  was  now  too  great 
to  admit  of  his  proceeding  any  further  with  his  cross- 
examination  ; he  was  found  guilty,  and  fined. 


WEDDED  LIFE. 


l95 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

WEDDED  LIFE. 

The  first  chief  judge  who  favoured  me  with  his  intimacy 
was  Lord  Clonmell,  Chief  Justice  of  the  King’s  Bench.  His 
character  appears  at  full  length  in  my  Historical  Memoirs  of 
Ireland , page  38,  and  a curious  but  true  character  it  is.  I 
was  introduced  to  his  lordship’s  notice  through  Sir  John 
Tydd,  and  received  from  him  many  instances  of  kind  atten- 
tion, and  he  gave  me,  early  in  life,  some  of  the  very  best 
practical  maxims.  As  he  was  one  of  the  celebrated  official 
“ fire-eaters  ” whom  I shall  hereafter  mention,  and  fought 
several  duels,  it  may  be  amusing  to  copy  here,  from  the  work 
in  question,  a few  distinguishing  traits  of  his  lordship. 
“ Mr.  Scott  never  omitted  one  favourable  opportunity  of 
serving  himself.  His  skill  was  unrivalled  and  his  success 
proverbial.  He  was  full  of  anecdotes,  though  not  the  most 
refined  ; these  in  private  society  he  not  only  told  but  acted  ; 
and  when  he  perceived  that  he  had  made  a very  good 
exhibition,  he  immediately  withdrew,  that  he  might  leave  the 
most  lively  impression  of  his  pleasantry  behind  him.  His 
boldness  was  his  first  introduction,  his  policy  his  ultimate 
preferment.  Courageous,  vulgar,  humorous,  artificial,  he 
knew  the  world  well,  and  he  profited  by  that  knowledge  ; he 
cultivated  the  powerful,  he  bullied  the  timid,  he  fought  the 
brave,  he  flattered  the  vain,  he  duped  the  credulous,  and  he 
amused  the  convivial.  Half-liked,  half-reprobated,  he  was 
too  high  to  be  despised,  and  too  low  to  be  respected.  His 
language  was  coarse,  and  his  principles  arbitrary  ; but  his 
passions  were  his  slaves,  and  his  cunning  was  his  instrument. 
In  public  and  in  private  he  was  the  same  character  ; and 


196  BARRINGTON'S  RECOLLECTIONS. 

though  a most  foitunate  man  and  a successful  courtier*  he 
had  scarcely  a sincere  friend  or  a disinterested  adherent.’ ’ 

His  duel  with  Lord  Tyrawly  was  caused  and  attended  by 
circumstances  which  combine  to  form  a curious  narrative  : 
Lady  Tyrawly  had  an  utter  dislike  for  her  husband,  then  the 
Honourable  James  Cuffe.  They  had  no  children,  and  she 
made  various  efforts  to  induce  him  to  consent  to  a distinct 
and  total  separation.  There  being  no  substantial  cause  for 
such  a measure,  Mr.  Cuffe  looked  upon  it  as  ridiculous,  and 
would  not  consent.  At  length  the  lady  hit  upon  an  excellent 
mode  for  carrying  her  wishes  into  effect,  and  ensuring  a 
separate  maintenance  ; but  I have  never  heard  of  the  pre- 
cedent being  followed. 

Mr.  Cuffe  found  her  one  day  in  tears,  a thing  not  frequent 
with  her  ladyship,  who  had  a good  deal  of  the  amazon 
about  her.  She  sobbed,  threw  herself  on  her  knees,  went 
through  the  usual  evolutions  of  a repentant  female,  and  at 
length  told  her  husband  that  she  was  unworthy  of  his  future 
protection — had  been  faithless  to  him,  and  was  a lost  and 
guilty  woman. 

I suppose  there  is  a routine  of  contrition,  explanation, 
rage,  honour,  etc.,  which  generally  attends  developments  of 
this  nature  ; and  I take  for  granted  that  the  same  was  duly 
performed  by  the  Honourable  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Cuffe.  Suffice 
it  to  say,  that  the  latter  was  put  into  a sedan  chair  and 
ordered  out  of  the  house  forthwith  to  private  lodgings,  until 
it  was  the  will  of  her  injured  lord  to  send  a deed  of  annuity 
for  her  support. 

Mr.  Cuffe  next  proceeded  to  summon  a friend  and 
inform  him  that  bis  wife  had  owned  “ that  villain  Scott,”  the 
attorney-general,  and  the  pretended  friend  of  his  family,  to 
be  her  seducer  ! that  not  his  love,  but  his  honour  was  so 
deeply  concerned,  as  to  render  the  death  of  one  or  the  other 
necessary  ; and  without  further  ceremony,  a message  was 
sent,  for  mortal  combat,  to  the  attorney-general,  urging  the 


WEDDED  LIFE.  1 97 

lady’s  confession,  his  own  dishonourable  breach  of  trust, 
and  Mr.  Cuffe’s  determination  to  fight  him. 

Mr.  Scott,  well  knowing  that  a declaration  of  innocence 
would  by  the  world  be  considered  either  as  honourable 
perjury  on  his  part  to  save  Mrs.  Cuffe’s  reputation,  or  as  a 
mode  of  screening  himself  from  her  husband’s  vengeance, 
and  in  no  case  be  believed  even  by  the  good-natured  part  of 
society,  made  up  his  mind  for  the  worst. 

The  husband  and  supposed  gallant  accordingly  met  and 
exchanged  shots  ; and  each  party  having  heard  the  bullets 
humanely  whiz  past  his  ears,  without  indicating  a desire  of 
becoming  more  intimately  acquainted,  Mr.  Scott  told  his 
antagonist  that  he  was  totally  mistaken,  and  gave  his  honour 
that  he  never  had  the  slightest  familiarity  with  the  lady,  who, 
he  concluded,  must  have  lost  her  reason. 

There  was  no  cause  for  denying  credence  to  this  ; whilst, 
on  the  other  hand,  it  was  but  too  likely  that  Mr.  Cuffe  had 
been  tricked  by  his  lady  wife.  She  was  sure  of  a separation, 
for  he  had  turned  her  out  ; and  if  he  had  fallen  on  the  field 
of  honour,  she  had  a noble  jointure  ; so  that  she  was  in 
utrumque  parata — secure  under  every  chance. 

On  his  return  he  sent  her  a most  severe  reprimand  ; and 
announced  but  a moderate  annuity,  which  she  instantly  and 
haughtily  refused,  positively  declaring  that  she  never  had 
made  any  confession  of  guilt , that  the  whole  was  a scheme  of 
his  own  vicious  jealousy  to  get  rid  of  her,  and  that  she  had 
only  said,  he  might  just  as  well  suspect  the  attorney-general, 
who  had  never  said  a civil  thing  to  her,  as  any  body  else. 
She  dared  him  to  prove  the  least  impropriety  on  her 
part  ; and  yet  he  had  cruelly  turned  her  out  of  his 
house,  and  proclaimed  his  innocent  wife  to  be  a guilty 
woman. 

Mr.  Cuffe  saw  she  had  been  too  many  for  him  every 
way  ; he  durst  not  give  more  publicity  to  the  affair,  and, 
therefore,  agreed  to  allow  her  a very  handsome  annuity, 


198 


Barrington’s  recollections. 


whereon  she  lived  a happy  life,  and  died  but  a few  years 
since. 

The  subsequent  connexion  of  Lord  Tyrawly  had  likewise 
a singular  termination.  Miss  Wewitzer,  sister  to  the  late 
celebrated  violinist  of  that  name,  soon  filled  Mrs.  Cuffe’s 
vacant  place  ; and  by  her  my  lord  had  many  children,  the 
eldest  being  the  present  Colonel  Cuffe,  member  of  Parlia- 
ment for  Mayo.  I never  saw  two  persons  live  more  happily 
together  than  Lord  Tyrawly  and  Miss  Wewitzer.  She  was 
unexceptionally  correct,  and  he  very  much  attached  to  her. 
She  had  been  remarkably  pretty,  and  celebrated  as  a Rosetta 
in  Bickerstaff’s  opera.  I was  intimate  with  Lord  Tyrawly, 
and  have  a very  great  regard  for  Colonel  Cuffe. 

The  death  of  Lady  Tyrawly  at  length  gave  his  lordship 
the  long-expected  opportunity  of  realising  his  promises  and 
intentions  for  the  sake  of  his  family  ; and  Lord  Tyrawly 
and  Miss  Wewitzer  being  regularly  married,  she  became  the 
real  Lady  Tyrawly,  whom  she  had  so  many  years  repre- 
sented. 

Now,  here  was  a cohabitation  of  considerably  more  than 
twenty  years  in  happiness  and  tranquillity,  followed  up  by  an 
honourable  and  just  arrangement,  wherefrom  it  might  be 
rationally  supposed  an  increase  of  happiness  would  ensue. 
But,  on  the  contrary,  no  sooner  did  the  parties  become 
legally  man  and  wife,  than  Madam  Discord  introduced 
herself  ! It  is  singular,  but  true,  that  as  if  nature  originally 
intended  every  living  thing  to  remain  totally  free  and  inde- 
pendent, the  moment  any  two  animals,  however  fond  before, 
are  fastened  together  by  a chain  they  cannot  break,  they 
begin  to  quarrel  without  apparent  reason,  and  peck  each 
other  solely  because  they  can’t  get  loose  again. 

So  it  was  with  my  Lord  and  Lady  Tyrawly  ; every  hour 
added  fresh  fuel  to  the  flame.  At  length,  to  continue  my 
pretty  simile,  the  chain  became  red-hot , neither  of  them 
could  bear  it  longer,  and  the  whole  affair  ended  inavolun- 


WEDDED  LIFE. 


!99 


tary  and  most  uncomfortable  separation.  However,  it  was 
only  for  a short  time  ; death,  always  fond  of  doing  mischief 
in  families,  very  soon  brought  them  together  again  ; and  if 
such  a thing  can  be  conceived  as  possible  in  the  other 
world,  it  is  no  bad  conjecture,  that  at  this  moment  my  Lord 
Tyrawly,  the  two  Lady  Tyrawlys,  and  Lord  Clonmell  are 
regretting  what  fools  they  were  in  giving  themselves  so  much 
uneasiness  upon  subjects  which  only  passed  like  shadows, 
instead  of  turning  their  minds  to  what  might  have  been 
much  more  material. 

I recollect  one  of  Lord  Clonmell’s  maxims  was,  “ whatever 
must  be  done  in  the  course  of  the  week,  always  do  it  on  the 
Monday  morning  ” ; and,  in  truth,  whoever  practises  that 
rule,  will  find  it  in  no  slight  degree  convenient.  I never 
did. 

Immediately  after  I was  married  I resided  next  door  to 
Lord  Clonmell,  in  Harcourt  Street.  He  called  on  me  most 
kindly,  and  took  me  to  walk  over  his  fine  gardens  and  lawn, 
and  was  so  humorous  and  entertaining  that  his  condescen- 
sion, as  I then  felt  it,  quite  delighted  me  ; but  I afterwards 
found  out  that  he  made  a point  of  discovering  every  young 
man  likely  to  succeed  in  public  life,  and  took  the  earliest 
moment  possible  of  being  so  civil  as  to  ensure  a friend,  if 
not  a partisan , and  no  man  wanted  the  latter  more  than  his 
lordship. 

“ Barrington,”  said  he  to  me,  “ you  are  married  ? ” 

“ No  doubt,”  said  I laughingly,  “ as  tight  as  any  person 
on  the  face  of  the  earth.” 

“ All  women  in  the  world,”  rejoined  his  lordship,  “ are 
fond  of  having  their  own  way.” 

“ I am  firmly  of  your  opinion,  my  lord,”  said  I. 

“ Now,”  pursued  he,  “ the  manner  in  which  all  wives  are 
spoiled  is  by  giving  them  their  own  way  at  first  ; for  what- 
ever you  accustom  them  to  at  the  beginning  they  will  expect 
ever  after  ! so  mind  me  : Til  tell  you  the  secret  of  ruling  a 


200 


Barrington’s  recollections. 


wife,  if  known  in  time  ; ‘ never  do  anything  for  peace  sake  5 >* 
if  you  do,  you’ll  never  have  one  hour’s  tranquillity  but  by 
concession , mind  that  ! ” 

“ I firmly  believe  it,”  exclaimed  I. 

“ Well,”  said  he,  “ practise  it ! ” 

Sometime  after  I met  his  lordship  at  Lamberton,  Queen’s 
County,  the  seat  of  Sir  John  Tydd.  He  related  the  above 
story,  and  asked  me  if  I had  taken  his  advice  ? “ No,” 

said  I. 

“ Why  ? ” inquired  his  lordship. 

“ Because,”  replied  I,  “ a philosopher  has  an  easier  life  of 
it  than  a soldier .” 

I had  the  laugh  against  him,  and  the  more  particularly  as 
his  lordship  had  married  a second  wife,  Miss  Lawless,  the 
present  dowager,  and  I believe  no  husband  in  Ireland 
adhered  less  to  his  own  maxim  than  did  Lord  Clonmell 
after  that  union. 


DUKE  OF  WELLINGTON,  AND  MARQUESS  OF  LONDONDERRY.  201 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

DUKE  OF  WELLINGTON,  AND  MARQUESS  OF  LONDONDERRY. 

My  personal  acquaintance  with  the  Duke  of  Wellington 
originated  accidentally,  soon  after  I commenced  public  life ; 
and  so  clearly  shews  the  versatility  of  men,  the  fallibility  of 
judgment,  and  the  total  uncertainty  of  all  human  prediction, 
that  I cannot  avoid  mentioning  it. 

In  1793,  I occasionally  gave  large  dinners,  according  to 
the  habit  invariably  adopted  in  those  times  by  persons 
circumstanced  like  myself.  At  one  of  those  entertainments, 
Major  Hobart,  Lord  Buckinghamshire  ; Sir  John  Parnell  ; 
Isaac  Corry ; I think,  Lord  Limerick  ; Sir  John,  afterwards 
Lord  de  Blacquiere  ; and  Lords  Llandaff,  Dillon,  Yelverton  ; 
the  Speaker — in  all,  upwards  of  twenty  noblemen  and  com- 
moners did  me  the  honour  of  partaking  my  fare.  Lord 
Clonmell  sent  me  his  two  grand  cooks,  and  a most  cheerful 
party  was  predicted.  The  House  had  sat  late  that  day,  and 
etiquette  never  permitted  us  to  go  to  dinner  where  the 
Speaker  was  a guest  until  his  arrival,  unless  he  had 
especially  desired  us  to  do  so. 

The  Speaker  did  not  join  us  till  nine  o’clock,  when  Sir 
John  Parnell  brought  with  him  and  introduced  to  me 
Captain  Wellesley  and  Mr.  Stewart,  two  young  members 
who,  having  remained  in  the  House,  he  had  insisted  on  their 
coming  with  him  to  my  dinner,  where  he  told  them  good 
cheer  and  a hearty  welcome  would  be  found,  and  in  this  he 
was  not  mistaken. 

Captain  Arthur  Wellesley  had,  in  1790,  been  returned  to 
Parliament  for  Trim,  County  Meath,  a borough  under  the 
patronage  of  his  brother,  the  Earl  of  Mornington.  He  was 
then  ruddy-faced  and  juvenile  in  appearance,  and  popular 


202 


Barrington’s  recollections. 


enough  among  the  young  men  of  his  age  and  station.  His 
address  was  unpolished  ; he  occasionally  spoke  in  Parlia- 
ment, but  not  successfully,  and  never  on  important  subjects  ; 
and  evinced  no  promise  of  that  unparalleled  celebrity  and 
splendour  which  he  has  since  reached,  and  whereto  intre- 
pidity and  decision,  good  luck,  and  great  military  science 
have  justly  combined  to  elevate  him. 

Lord  Castlereagh  was  the  son  of  Mr.  Stewart,  a country 
gentleman,  generally  accounted  to  be  a very  clever  man  in 
the  North  of  Ireland.  He  was  a professed  and  not  very 
moderate  patriot , and  at  one  time  carried  his  ideas  of  op- 
position exceedingly  far,  becoming  a leading  member  of 
the  Reform  and  Liberal  societies. 

Lord  Castlereagh  began  his  career  in  the  Irish  Parliament 
by  a motion  for  a committee  to  inquire  into  the  representa- 
tion of  the  people,  with  the  ulterior  object  of  a reform  in 
Parliament.  He  made  a good  speech,  and  had  a majority 
in  the  House,  which  he  certainly  did  not  expect,  and  I am 
sure  did  not  wish  for . He  was  unequal  and  unwilling  to 
push  that  point  to  further  trial  ; the  matter  cooled  in  a few 
days,  and  after  the  next  division  was  deserted  entirely.  Mr. 
Stewart,  however,  after  that  speech,  was  considered  as  a 
very  clever  young  man,  and  in  all  points  well  taught  and 
tutored  by  his  father,  whose  marriage  with  the  Marquess  of 
Camden’s  sister  was  the  remote  cause  of  all  his  future 
successes,  how  sadly  terminated  ! 

At  the  period  to  which  I allude,  I feel  confident  nobody 
could  have  predicted  that  one  of  those  young  gentlemen 
would  become  the  most  celebrated  English  general  of  his  era, 
and  the  other  one  of  the  most  mischievous  statesmen  and  un- 
fortunate ministers  that  has  ever  appeared  in  modern  Europe. 
However,  it  is  observable  that  to  the  personal  intimacy  and 
reciprocal  friendship  of  those  two  individuals  they  mutually 
owed  the  extent  of  their  respective  elevation  and  celebrity  ; 
Sir  Arthur  Wellesley  never  would  have  had  the  chief  com- 


DUKE  OF  WELLINGTON,  AND  MARQUESS  OF  LONDONDERRY.  203 

mand  in  Spain  but  for  the  ministerial  manoeuvring  and  aid 
of  Lord  Castlereagh  ; and  Lord  Castlereagh  never  could 
have  stood  his  ground  as  a minister  but  for  Lord 
Wellington’s  successes. 

At  my  house  the  evening  passed  amidst  that  glow  of 
well-bred,  witty,  and  cordial  vinous  conviviality  which  was, 
I believe,  peculiar  to  high  society  in  Ireland. 

From  that  night  I became  rather  intimate  with  Captain 
Wellesley  and  Mr.  Stewart,  and  perceived  certain  amiable 
qualities  in  both,  which  a change  of  times  or  the  intoxication 
of  prosperity  certainly  in  some  degree  tended  to  diminish. 
Indeed,  if  Lord  Wellington  had  continued  until  now  the 
same  frank,  open-hearted  man,  he  certainly  must  have  been 
better  proof  against  those  causes  v/hich  usually  excite  a 
metamorphosis  of  human  character  than  anyone  who  had 
ever  preceded  him.  Still,  if  possible,  he  would  have  been 
a greater  man  ; at  least  he  would  have  better  dra wn  the 
distinction  between  a warrior  and  a hero,  terms  not  alto- 
gether synonymous.  Many  years  subsequently  to  the 
dinner-party  I have  mentioned,  I one  day  met  Lord 
Castlereagh  in  the  Strand,  and  a gentleman  with  him.  His 
lordship  stopped  me,  whereat  I was  rather  surprised,  as  we 
had  not  met  for  some  time  ; he  spoke  very  kindly,  smiled, 
and  asked  if  I had  forgotten  my  old  friend,  Sir  Arthur 
Wellesley  ? whom  I discovered  in  his  companion,  but 
looking  so  sallow  and  wan,  and  with  every  mark  of  what 
is  called  a worn-out  man,  that  I was  truly  concerned  at 
his  appearance.  But  he  soon  recovered  his  health  and 
looks,  and  went  as  the  Duke  of  Richmond’s  secretary  to 
Ireland,  where  he  was  in  all  material  traits  still  Sir  Arthur 
Wellesley,  but  it  was  Sir  Arthur  Wellesley  judiciously 
improved.  He  had  not  forgotten  his  friends,  nor  did  he 
forget  himself.  He  said  that  he  had  accepted  the  office  of 
secretary  only  on  the  terms  that  it  should  not  impede  or 
interfere  with  his  military  pursuits  ; and  what  he  said  proved 


204 


BARRINGTON'S  RECOLLECTIONS. 


true,  for  he  was  soon  sent  as  second  in  command  with 
Lord  Cathcart  to  Copenhagen  to  break  through  the  law 
of  nations,  and  execute  the  most  distinguished  piece  of 
treachery  that  history  records. 

On  Sir  Arthur’s  return  he  recommenced  his  duty  of 
secretary  ; and  during  his  residence  in  Ireland  in  that 
capacity  I did  not  hear  one  complaint  against  any  part 
of  his  conduct  either  as  a public  or  private  man.  He  was 
afterwards  appointed  to  command  in  Spain — an  appoint- 
ment solicited,  and  I believe  expected,  by  Sir  John  Doyle. 
It  might  be  entertaining  to  speculate  on  the  probable  state 
of  Europe  at  present  if  Sir  John  had  been  then  appointed 
generalissimo.  I do  not  mean  to  infer  any  disparagement 
to  the  talents  of  Sir  John,  but  he  might  have  pursued  a 
different  course,  not  calculated,  as  in  Sir  Arthur’s  instance, 
to  have  decided  for  the  time  being  the  fate  of  Europe. 

A few  days  before  Sir  Arthur’s  departure  for  Spain,  I 
requested  him  to  spend  a day  with  me,  which  he  did.  The 
company  was  not  very  large,  but  some  of  Sir  Arthur’s 
military  friends  were  among  the  party — the  late  Sir  Charles 
Asgill,  the  present  General  Meyrick,  etc.  I never  saw  him 
more  cheerful  or  happy.  The  bombardment  of  Copenhagen 
being  by  chance  stated  as  a topic  of  remark,  I did  not  join 
in  its  praise,  but,  on  the  other  hand,  muttered  that  I never 
did  nor  should  approve  of  it. 

“ Damn  it,  Barrington,”  said  Sir  Arthur,  “ why  ? what  do 
you  mean  to  say  ? ” “I  say,  Sir  Arthur,”  replied  I,  “ that 
it  was  the  very  best  devised,  the  very  best  executed,  and 
the  most  just  and  necessary  ‘ robbery  and  murder  ’ now  on 
record  ! ” He  laughed,  and  adjourned  to  the  drawing-room, 
where  Lady  Barrington  had  a ball  and  supper  as  a finish  for 
the  departing  hero. 

In  1815,  having  been  shut  up  in  Paris  during  the  siege,  I 
went  out  to  Nivelly,  to  pay  a visit  to  the  Duke  before  our 
troops  got  into  the  city.  I had  not  seen  him  since  the  last 


DUKE  OF  WELLINGTON,  AND  MARQUESS  OF  LONDONDERRY.  205 

day  he  dined  at  my  own  house  ; but  he  had  intermediately 
much  changed. 

I knew  his  Grace  when  Captain  Wellesley,  Sir  Arthur 
Wellesley,  Secretary  Wellesley,  Ambassador  Wellesley,  and 
Duke  of  Wellington.  In  the  first  stage  of  his  career  I was 
his  equal  ; in  the  last  nobody  is.  However,  it  is  a fine 
reflection  for  the  contemporaries  of  great  people  that  it  will 
be  “ all  the  same  a hundred  years  hence  ! ” and  heroes, 
diplomatists,  etc.,  must  either  become  very  good-tempered 
fellows  when  they  meet  in  the  Elysian  fields,  or  there  must 
be  a very  strong  police  to  keep  them  in  order. 

I was  present  in  one  of  the  French  Chambers  when  the 
question  of  capitulation  was  discussed,  and  most  un- 
doubtedly Marshal  Ney  supported  that  measure  upon  the 
basis  of  a general  amnesty.  On  any  other  it  would  never  have 
been  listened  to  ; the  battle  would  have  taken  place  early 
next  morning,  and  the  Duke  of  Wellington  would  have  had  to 
contest  the  most  sanguinary  and  desperate  engagement  of  his 
day  with  a numerous  and  well-appointed  army,  frantic  with 
zeal  to  revenge  their  disgrace  at  Waterloo.  This  I know — 
for  I was  (truly  against  the  grain)  kept  more  than  twelve 
hours  in  the  midst  of  it  at  Vilette,  two  days  before  the  capitu- 
lation. Of  this  more  will  be  seen  near  the  end  of  the  volume. 
I cannot  but  remark  that  if  Ney  had  been  pardoned,  and  the 
horses  not  sent  to  Venice,  the  spirit  of  the  capitulation 
would  have  been  more  strictly  adhered  to. 

I must  be  rightly  understood  respecting  Lord  London- 
derry, to  whom,  individually,  I never  had  the  slightest 
objection.  As  a private  gentleman,  I always  found  him 
friendly,  though  cold  ; and  fair,  though  ambiguous.  I never 
knew  him  break  his  word,  and  believe  him  to  have  been 
perfectly  honourable  upon  every  subject  of  private  interest. 
But  here  my  eulogy  must  close  ; for  with  regard  to  public 
character,  his  lordship  must,  I fear,  be  pronounced  corrupt. 
When  determined  on  a point,  nothing  could  stop  him.  In 


206 


Barrington’s  recollections. 


Ireland  his  career  was  distinguished  by  public  bribery  and 
palpable  misrepresentations — of  which  assertion,  had  I not 
indisputable  and  ample  proof,  I would  not  hazard  it. 

Mr.  Pelham,  now  Earl  of  Chichester,  was  secretary  to 
Lord  Camden  when  Lord  Lieutenant.  I had  the  good 
fortune  and  pleasure,  for  it  was  a great  pleasure  to  me,  to 
be  on  very  friendly  terms  with  this  amiable  and  engaging 
gentleman,  and  have  seldom  met  any  public  personage  I 
liked  so  well,  being  moderate,  honourable,  sufficiently  firm 
and  sufficiently  spirited ; I had  a real  gratification  in  attaching 
myself  not  only  to  his  measures,  but  to  his  society.  In  all 
our  intercourse,  which  ceased  with  his  departure,  I found 
him  candid  and  just,  and  experienced  at  his  hands  several 
public  acts  of  kindness. 

Mr.  Pelham’s  parliamentary  talents  were  not  of  a splendid 
order.  The  people  of  Ireland  never  required  stars  for 
ministers ; but  a fair  and  candid  secretary  was  a treat 
to  them,  and  Mr.  Pelham  was  making  full  way  in  public 
estimation.  The  last  day  I ever  saw  him  in  Ireland,  he  and 
his  brother-in-law,  Lord  Sheffield,  did  me  the  favour  of 
dining  with  me  in  Merrion  Square.  I perceived  he  was 
uncommonly  dull,  and  regretted  the  circumstance  much  ; 
he  obviously  grew  worse,  at  length  laid  his  head  upon  the 
table,  and  when  he  departed  was  extremely  ill.  Next 
day  he  was  in  a violent  fever,  his  life  was  long  despaired  of, 
he  recovered  with  difficulty,  and  on  his  recovery  returned  to 
England.  Mr.  Stewart,  by  marriage  the  Lord  Lieutenant’s 
nephew,  was  named  as  locum  tenens  during  Mr.  Pelham’s 
absence,  or,  should  he  not  return,  until  the  appointment  of 
another  secretary.  But  he  was  soon  discovered  by  his 
employers  to  be  fit  for  any  business  ; and  as  it  had  been 
long  in  the  secret  contemplation  of  the  British  ministry  to 
extinguish  the  Irish  Parliament,  either  by  fraud  or  force, 
and  Lord  Camden  being  considered  too  inactive,  perhaps 
too  conscientious  and  honourable,  to  resort  to  either  of 


DUKE  OF  WELLINGTON,  AND  MARQUESS  OF  LONDONDERRY.  207 

those  weapons,  it  was  determined  to  send  over  an  old 
servant-of-all-work,  who  had  fought  till  he  was  beaten,  and 
negotiated  till  he  was  outwitted.  This  person,  Lord 
Cornwallis,  with  the  assistance  of  his  young  secretary,  would 
stop  at  nothing  necessary  to  effect  the  purpose,  and  they 
could  between  them  carry  a measure  which  few  other  persons 
at  that  period  durst  have  attempted. 

These  fragments  are  not  intended  as  political  episodes. 
The  result  of  that  coalition  everybody  knows.  I shall 
only  state  so  much  of  the  transaction  as  relates  to  my  own 
individual  concerns.  I had  an  interview  with  Lord  Castle- 
reagh,  some  time  after  he  came  into  office,  at  Mr.  Cooke’s 
chambers.  He  told  me  he  understood  I expected  to  be  the 
next  solicitor-general,  and  had  applied  for  the  office.  I 
answered  that  I not  only  expected  as  much,  but  considered 
myself,  under  all  circumstances,  entitled  to  that  preferment. 
He  and  Mr.  Cooke  both  said  “ yes,”  and  recommended  me 
to  make  “ my  party  good  with  Lord  Clare,”  who  had  ex- 
pressed “ no  indisposition  ” to  the  appointment.  Had  I not 
been  supposed  of  some  use  to  the  Government,  I do  not 
doubt  but  Lord  Clare  would  have  preferred  many  other 
more  subservient  gentry  of  my  profession.  But  he  knew 
that  although  Lord  Westmoreland,  on  leaving  Ireland,  had 
made  no  express  stipulation,  he  had  subsequently  gone  as 
far  as  he  could  with  Lord  Camden  for  my  promotion.  Lord 
Clare  played  me  off  cleverly  until,  in  the  month  of  August, 
1799,  I was  sent  for  in  private  by  the  secretary,  Edward 
Cooke,  who  had  been  a particular  confidential  friend  of 
mine  for  several  years.  Having  first  enjoined  secrecy  as  to 
our  conference,  he  told  me  that  a measure  of  great  import 
had  been  under  consideration  in  the  English  Cabinet,  and 
might  possibly  be  acted  on  ; and  then  proceeding  to 
acquaint  me  that  Lord  Clare  had  made  no  objection  to  my 
promotion,  he  asked  in  so  many  words  if  I would  support 
the  “ question  of 4 a union,’  if  it  should  be  brought  forward?” 


208 


Barrington’s  recollections. 


I was  struck  as  if  by  a shot ! I had  no  idea  of  such  a thing 
being  now  seriously  contemplated,  although  I had  often 
heard  of  it  as  a measure  suggested  in  1763.  My  mind  had 
never  any  doubts  upon  the  degrading  subject,  all  thoughts 
whereof  had  been  considered  as  banished  for  ever  by  the 
volunteers  of  1782.  I,  therefore,  replied  at  once,  “ No, 
never  ! ” “ You’ll  think  bettei  of  it,  Barrington  ! ” said  he. 

“ Never,  by  — ! ” rejoined  I ; “ never  ! ” and  the  discussion 
was  dropped,  nor  did  I confide  it  to  any  save  one  individual, 
who  differed  with  me  very  much,  at  least  as  to  the  mode  of 
refusal. 

I was  determined,  however,  to  know  how  the  matter  really 
stood  ; and,  without  touching  on  the  late  conversation, 
desired  to  be  apprised  whether  they  preserved  the  intention 
of  appointing  me  solicitor-general.  I received  no  other 
answer  than  the  following  letter  from  Lord  Castlereagh, 
without  any  explanation  ; but  it  was  enveloped  in  a very 
long  one  from  Mr.  Cooke,  headed  “ strictly  private,”  and 
therefore,  of  course,  still  remaining  so  : — 

“ My  dear  Sir,  “ September  7,  1799. 

“I  am  directed  by  his  Excellency,  the  Lord 
Lieutenant,  to  assure  you  that  he  would  be  glad  to  avail 
himself  of  any  proper  opportunity  of  complying  with  your 
wishes  ; and  that  he  regrets  much,  he  is  at  present  so 
particularly  circumstanced  with  respect  to  the  office  of 
solicitor-general,  that  he  feels  it  impossible  to  gratify  your 
desire  as  to  that  appointment.  I should  myself  have  been 
very  happy  had  I been  able  to  communicate  to  you  a more 
favourable  result. 

“ Dear  Sir,  yours  very  sincerely, 

“ Castlereagh.” 

I never  had  anything  more  to  do  with  the  successive 
Governments  of  Ireland,*  and  have  used  all  forbearance  in 

* Lord  Castlereagh’s  letter  to  me  put,  in  fact,  a civil  end  to  my 
dreams  of  promotion ; 


DUKE  OF  WELLINGTON,  AND  MARQUESS  OF  LONDONDERRY.  209 


giving  my  opinion  of  Irish  Lord  Chancellors,  except  Mr. 
Ponsonby,  whom  nobody  ever  heard  me  praise  as  a very 
great  lawyer,  but  whom  everybody  has  heard  me  term  a just 
judge,  and  an  honest,  friendly  man. 

Of  Lord  Camden,  I believe,  there  was  no  second  opinion 
in  the  circle  wherein  I moved  ; a better  man  could  not  be  ; 
but  instead  of  governing,  he  was  governed  ; and  intimately 
acquainted  as  I was  with  every  procedure  and  measure 
during  his  administration  in  Ireland,  I do  most  fully  acquit 
him,  individually,  of  the  outrageous,  impolitic,  and  ill-judged 
measures  which  distinguished  his  rule.  As  to  Lord  Clare, 
he  was  despotic,  and  the  greatest  enemy  Ireland  ever  had. 
His  father  had  been  a Roman  Catholic,  and  intended  for  a 
priest,  but  changed  his  tenets,  became  a barrister  of  great 
and  just  celebrity,  and  left  many  children. 

Lord  Clare  was  latterly  my  most  inveterate  enemy  ; the 
cause  shall  be  no  secret  ; — it  arose  from  a vicious  littleness 
of  mind  scarcely  credible,  and  proves  to  me  that  implac- 
ability of  temper  never  exists  without  its  attendant  faults  ; 
and  although  it  may  be  deprecated  by  cringing,  is  seldom 
influenced  by  feelings  of  generosity. 


(D  311) 


210 


BARRINGTON'S  RECOLLECTIONS. 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 

LORD  NORBURY. 

Lord  Norbury,  then  Mr.  Toler,  went  circuit  as  judge  the 
first  circuit  I went  as  barrister.  He  continued  my  friend  as 
warmly  as  he  possibly  could  be  the  friend  of  anyone,  and  I 
thought  he  was  in  earnest.  One  evening,  however,  coming 
hot  from  Lord  Clare’s,  at  that  time  my  proclaimed  enemy, 
he  attacked  me  with  an  after-dinner  volubility  which  hurt 
and  roused  me  very  much.  I kept  indifferent  bounds 
myself  ; but  he  was  generally  so  very  good-tempered  that  I 
really  felt  a repugnance  to  indulging  him  with  as  tart  a reply 
as  a stranger  would  have  received,  and  simply  observed  that 
“ I should  only  just  give  him  that  character  which  developed 
itself  by  his  versatility — namely,  that  he  had  a hand  for  every 
man>  and  a heart  for  nobody  ! ” — and  I believe  the  sarcasm 
has  stuck  to  him  from  that  day  to  this.  He  returned  a very 
warm  answer,  gave  me  a wink,  and  made  his  exit — of  course, 
I followed.  The  sergeant-at-arms  was  instantly  sent  by  the 
Speaker  to  pursue  us  with  his  attendants,  and  to  bring  both 
refractory  members  back  to  the  House.  Toler  was  caught 
by  the  skirts  of  his  coat  fastening  in  a door,  and  they  laid 
hold  of  him  just  as  the  skirts  were  torn  completely  off.  I 
was  overtaken,  whilst  running  away,  in  Nassau  Street,  and 
as  I resisted  was  brought  like  a sack  on  a man’s  shoulders, 
to  the  admiration  of  the  mob,  and  thrown  down  in  the  body 
of  the  House.  The  Speaker  told  us  we  must  give  our 
honours  forthwith  that  the  matter  should  proceed  no  further. 
Toler  got  up  to  defend  himself,  but  as  he  then  had  no  skirts 
to  his  coat,  made  a most  ridiculous  figure  ; and  Curran  put 
a finishing  stroke  to  the  comicality  of  the  scene  by  gravely 


LORD  NORBURY. 


21 1 


saying,  that  “ it  was  the  most  unparalleled  insult  ever  offered 
to  the  House  ! as  it  appeared  that  one  honourable  member 
had  trimmed  another  honourable  member's  jacket  within 
these  walls,  and  nearly  within  view  of  the  Speaker  ! ” A 
general  roar  of  laughter  ensued.  I gave  my  honour,  as 
required,  I think  with  more  good-will  than  Toler,  and 
would  willingly  have  forgotten  the  affair  altogether,  which 
he  apparently  never  did.  I only  hope  that  when  his 
memory  declines,  which  time  cannot  be  very  far  off  now, 
our  quarrel  will  be  the  first  circumstance  that  slips  it.  If 
I could  forget  anything , I should  long  ago  have  lost  all 
recollection  thereof. 

Lord  Norbury  had  more  readiness  of  repartee  than  any 
man  I ever  knew  who  possessed  neither  classical  wit  nor 
genuine  sentiment  to  make  it  valuable.  But  he  had  a fling 
at  everything,  and  failing  in  one  attempt,  made  another — 
sure  of  carrying  his  point  before  he  relinquished  his  efforts. 
His  extreme  good  temper  was  a great  advantage.  The 
present  Lord  Redesdale  was  much,  though  unintentionally, 
annoyed  by  Mr.  Toler  at  one  of  the  first  dinners  he  gave,  as 
Lord  Chancellor  of  Ireland,  to  the  judges  and  king’s 
counsel.  Having  heard  that  the  members  of  the  Irish  bar, 
of  whom  he  was  then  quite  ignorant,  were  considered 
extremely  witty,  and  being  desirous,  if  possible,  to  adapt 
himself  to  their  habits,  his  lordship  had  obviously  got 
together  some  of  his  best  bar-remarks — for  of  wit  he 
was  totally  guiltless,  if  not  inapprehensive — to  repeat 
to  his  company,  as  occasion  might  offer  ; and  if  he 
could  not  be  humorous,  determined  at  least  to  be  enter- 
taining. 

The  first  of  his  lordship’s  observations  after  dinner  was 
the  telling  us  that  he  had  been  a Welsh  judge,  and  had 
cound  great  difficulty  in  pronouncing  the  double  consonants 
vhich  occur  in  the  Welsh  proper  names.  “ After  much 
rial,”  continued  his  lordship,  “ I found  that  the  difficulty 


212 


Barrington’s  recollections. 


was  mastered  by  moving  the  tongue  alternately  from  one 
dog-tooth  to  the  other.” 

Toler  seemed  quite  delighted  with  this  discovery,  and 
requested  to  know  his  lordship’s  dentist,  as  he  had  lost  one 
of  his  dog-teeth,  and  would  immediately  get  another  in  place 
of  it.  This  went  off  flatly  enough — no  laugh  being  gained 
on  either  side. 

Lord  Redesdale’s  next  remark  was,  that  when  he  was  a 
lad,  cock-fighting  was  the  fashion,  and  that  both  ladies  and 
gentlemen  went  full  dressed  to  the  cock-pit,  the  ladies  being 
in  hoops. 

“ I see  now,  my  lord,”  said  Toler,  “ it  was  then  that  the 
term  cock-a-hoop  was  invented.” 

A general  laugh  now  burst  forth,  which  rather  discom- 
posed the  learned  chancellor.  He  sat  for  a while  silent,  until 
skating  became  a subject  of  conversation,  when  his  lordship 
rallied,  and  with  an  air  of  triumph  said  that  in  his  boyhood 
all  danger  was  avoided,  for  before  they  began  to  skate  they 
always  put  blown  bladders  under  their  arms,  and  so,  if  the 
ice  happened  to  break,  they  were  buoyant  and  saved. 

“ Ay,  my  lord  ! ” said  Toler,  “ that’s  what  we  call  blather- 
am-skate*  in  Ireland.” 

His  lordship  did  not  understand  this  sort  of  thing  at  all  ; 
and  though  extremely  courteous,  seemed  to  wish  us  all  at 
our  respective  homes.  Having  failed  with  Toler,  in  order 
to  say  a civil  thing  or  two,  he  addressed  himself  to  Mr. 
Garrat  O’Farrell,  a jolly  Irish  barrister,  who  always  carried  a 
parcel  of  coarse  national  humour  about  with  him  ; a broad, 
squat,  ruddy-faced  fellow,  with  a great  aquiline  nose  and  a 
humorous  eye.  Independent  in  mind  and  property,  he 
generally  said  whatever  came  uppermost.  “ Mr.  Garrat 
O’Farrell,”  said  the  chancellor  solemnly,  “ I believe  your 
name  and  family  were  very  respectable  and  numerous  in 

* An  Irish  vulgar  idiom  for  “ nonsense .” 


LORD  NORBURY.  21 3 

County  Wicklow.  I think  I was  introduced  to  several  of 
them  during  my  late  tour  there.” 

“ Yes,  my  lord  ! ” said  O’Farrell,  “ we  were  very  num- 
erous ; but  so  many  of  us  have  been  lately  hanged  for 
sheep-stealing,  that  the  name  is  getting  rather  scarce  in  that 
county.” 

His  lordship  said  no  more  ; and  so  far  as  respect  for  a 
new  chancellor  admitted,  we  got  into  our  own  line  of  com- 
versation,  without  his  assistance.  His  lordship  by  degrees 
began  to  understand  some  jokes  a few  minutes  after  they 
were  uttered.  An  occasional  smile  discovered  his  enlighten- 
ment ; and  at  the  breaking  up  I really  think  his  impression 
was,  that  we  were  a pleasant,  though  not  very  comprehen- 
sible race,  possessing  at  a dinner-table  much  more  good- 
fellowship  than  special  pleading,  and  that  he  would  have  a 
good  many  of  his  old  notions  to  get  rid  of  before  he  could 
completely  cotton  to  so  dissimilar  a body — but  he  was 
extremely  polite.  Chief  Justice  Downs  and  a few  more  of 
our  high  cold  sticklers  for  “ decorum  ” were  quite  uneasy 
at  this  skirmishing. 

I never  met  a cold-blooded  ostentatious  man  of  office 
whom  I did  not  feel  pleasure  in  mortifying  ; an  affectation 
of  sang-froid  is  necessary  neither  to  true  dignity  nor  import- 
ance, and  generally  betrays  the  absence  of  many  amiable 
qualities. 

I never  saw  Lord  Redesdale  more  puzzled  than  at  one  of 
Plunkett’s  best  jeux  d'esprits.  A cause  was  argued  in 
Chancery  wherein  the  plaintiff  prayed  that  the  defendant 
should  be  restrained  from  suing  him  on  certain  bills  of 
exchange,  as  they  were  nothing  but  kites.  “ Kites  ? ” 
exclaimed  Lord  Redesdale  ; “ kites,  Mr.  Plunkett  ? Kites 
never  could  amount  to  the  value  of  those  securities  ! 

I don’t  understand  this  statement  at  all,  Mr.  Plunkett.” 

“ It  is  not  to  be  expected  that  you  should,  my  lord,” 
answered  Plunkett.  “ In  England  and  in  Ireland  kites  are 


214 


Barrington’s  recollections 


quite  different  things.  In  England  the  wind  raises  the  kites y 
but  in  Ireland  the  kites  raise  the  wind” 

“ I do  not  feel  any  way  better  informed  yet,  Mr.  Plunkett,” 
said  the  matter-of-fact  chancellor. 

“ Well,  my  lord,  I’ll  explain  the  thing  without  mention- 
ing those  birds  of  prey,”  and  therewith  he  elucidated  the 
difficulty. 

Lord  Redesdale  never  could  pronounce  the  name  of  Mr. 
Colclough,  a suitor  in  the  Chancery  court.  It  was  extremely 
amusing  to  hear  how  he  laboured  to  get  it  off  his  tongue, 
but  quite  in  vain  ! Callcloff  was  his  nearest  effort.  I often 
wished  I could  recommend  him  to  try  his  dog-teeth. 

On  the  discussion  of  the  Catholic  Bill,  in  1792,  Lord 
Westmoreland,  then  Lord  Lieutenant  of  Ireland,  certainly 
did  not  approve  of  the  precipitate  measures  wished  for  b.y  his 
secretary,  Major  Hobart,  afterwards  Earl  of  Buckingham- 
shire. I had  the  honour  of  distinctly  knowing  the  senti- 
ments of  both,  and  clearly  saw  the  shades  of  difference 
which  existed  between  them,  but  which,  of  course,  I had  not 
the  presumption  to  notice.  I felt  convinced  that  both  were 
my  friends,  and  was  desirous,  if  possible,  to  run  counter  to 
neither. 

I never  had  disputed  the  political  right  of  the  Catholics 
theoretically  ; but  I had  been  bred  up  amongst  Williamites, 
and  had  imbibed,  without  very  well  understanding  their 
bearing,  strong  Protestant  principles  ; and  hence  I deemed  it 
wisest  neither  to  speak  nor  vote  upon  the  subject  at  that 
period. 

The  Irish  Catholics  had  conceived  a wonderful  high 
opinion  of  Mr.  Edmund  Burke’s  assistance  and  abilities. 
Because  he  was  a clever  man  himself,  they  conceived  his 
son  must  needs  be  so  too  ; and  a deputation  was  sent  over 
to  induce  young  Mr.  Burke  to  come  to  Ireland  for  the  pur- 
pose of  superintending  the  progress  of  their  bills  of  Emanci- 
pation in  the  Irish  Parliament,  and  to  bear  his  expenses  a 


LORD  NORBURY. 


215 


sum  ot  £2,000  was  voted.  Mr.  Keogh,  of  Dublin,  a very 
sensible  man,  who  had  retired  from  trade,  was  extremely 
active  upon  this  occasion. 

The  bills  were  introduced  and  resisted.  A petition  had 
been  prepared  by  Burke,  and  being  considered  neither  well- 
timed  nor  well- worded,  certain  even  of  the  warmest  Catholic 
supporters  declined  to  present  it. 

Young  Burke,  either  totally  ignorant  of  parliamentary 
rules,  or  supposing  that  in  a disturbed  country  like  Ireland 
they  would  be  dispensed  with,  especially  in  favour  of  a son 
of  the  great  Burke,  determined  he  would  present  the  petition 
himself — not  at  the  bar,  but  in  the  body  of  the  House  ! 
Accordingly,  he  descended  from  the  gallery,  walked  into  the 
House  with  a long  roll  of  parchment  under  his  arm,  and 
had  arrived  near  the  Treasury  Bench,  when  a general  cry  of 
“ Privilege  ! A stranger  in  the  House  ! ” arose  from  all 
quarters,  and  checked  the  progress  of  the  intruder  ; but 
when  the  Speaker,  in  his  loud  and  dignified  tone,  called  out, 
“ Sergeant-at-arms,  do  your  duty  ! ” it  seemed  to  echo  like 
thunder  in  Burke’s  ears  ; he  felt  the  awkwardness  of  his 
situation,  and  ran  towards  the  bar.  Here  he  was  met  by 
the  sergeant-at-arms  with  a drawn  sword  ; retracing  his  steps, 
he  was  stopped  by  the  clerk,  and  the  sergeant  gaining  on 
him,  with  a feeling  of  trepidation  he  commenced  actual 
flight . The  doorkeepers  at  the  corridor  now  joined  in 
pursuit ; but  at  length,  after  an  excellent  chase,  the  members 
all  keeping  their  seats,  he  forced  through  the  enemy  behind 
the  Speaker’s  chair  and  escaped  ! no  doubt  to  his  great  satis- 
faction. Strong  measures  were  immediately  proposed  ; 
messengers  despatched  in  all  quarters  to  arrest  him  ; very 
few  knew  who  he  was,  when  Lord  Norbury,  with  that  viva- 
cious promptness  which  he  always  possessed,  on  its  being 
observed  that  no  such  transaction  had  ever  occurred  before, 
exclaimed,  “ I found  the  very  same  incident  some  few  days 
back  in  the  cross  readings  of  the  columns  of  a newspaper. 


216 


Barrington’s  recollections. 


1 Yesterday  a petition  was  presented  to  the  House  of  Com- 
mons, it  fortunately  missed  fire,  and  the  villain  ran  off.’  ” 

It  was  impossible  to  withstand  this  sally,  which  put  the 
House  in  a moment  into  good  humour.  Burke  returned  to 
England  unsuccessful,  and  the  matter  dropped. 

It  being  observed  by  some  member  that  the  sergeant- at  - 
arms  should  have  stopped  the  man  at  the  back  door,  Sir 
Boyle  Roche  very  justly  asked  the  honourable  gentleman — 
“ How  could  the  sergeant-at-arms  stop  him  in  the  rear 
whilst  he  was  catching  him  in  the  front  ? Did  he  think  the 
sergeant-at-arms  could  be,  like  a bird,  in  two  places  at 
once  ? ” 

I read  some  time  back  in  the  English  newspapers  an 
anecdote  of  Lord  Norbury’s  having  appeared  on  the  bench 
in  a masquerade  dress.  As  I was  myself  present  at  that 
occurrence,  it  is  only  just  to  his  lordship  to  state  the  facts , 
whence  it  will  appear  that  it  was  totally  a mistake — so  much 
so,  indeed,  that  his  lordship  did  not  seem  to  be  conscious  of 
his  habiliments  even  whilst  every  person  in  court  was  staring 
with  astonishment. 

Some  time  previously  Lady  Castlereagh  had  given  a very 
splendid  masquerade,  at  which  I saw  the  Chief  Justice  in  the 
dress  and  character  of  Hawthorn , in  Love  in  a Village , and 
well  did  he  enact  that  part.  The  dress  was  a green  tabinet, 
with  mother-of-pearl  buttons,  striped  yellow  and  black 
waistcoat,  and  buff  breeches,  and  was  altogether  cool  and 
light. 

On  going  the  next  circuit,  the  weather  being  excessively 
sultry,  and  his  lordship  having  a great  press  of  sentences  to 
pass  on  rebels,  etc.,  at  Carlow,  he  put  on  under  his  robes 
the  lightest  vestments  in  his  lordship’s  wardrobe.  Now,  be 
it  remembered  that  the  use  of  the  said  masquerade  dress  was 
a dead  secret  except  to  the  robes  that  covered  it,  and  neither 
the  passing  nor  future  generations  would  ever  have  heard  a 
word  of  the  green  jacket  if  the  said  robes  had  kept  themselves 


LORD  NORBURY.  217 

close,  as  the  Chief  Justice  had  carefully  provided  before  the 
sounding  of  the  trumpet. 

The  warmth  of  the  day,  however,  and  the  variety  of  appro- 
priate addresses  necessary  to  be  framed  for  so  many  con- 
victed criminals,  might  be  expected  to  take  away  a certain 
quantity  of  any  man’s  precaution,  and  as  a Chief  Justice  is 
but  a man , Lord  Norbury  fell  into  the  snare  ! and  feeling 
the  heat  insufferable,  which  the  twisting  his  wig  sideways 
did  not  relieve,  he  involuntarily  first  turned  up  the  sleeves 
of  his  robe,  then  loosened  the  zone  round  his  waist.  The 
robe  being  now  free  from  all  restraint,  thought  it  had  a right 
to  steal  away  from  the  green  jacket,  and  thus  the  unconscious 
Chief  Justice  “ stood  confessed  ” to  the  auditory  in  the 
court-house  as  the  representative  of  a very  different  character 
from  that  of  a judge  ! But  it  was  an  accident  that  might, 
without  culpability,  have  happened  even  to  an  archbishop  ! 
I once  saw  a bishop  myself  play  the  fiddle  at  one  of  the  public 
concerts  of  the  first  Lady  Westmoreland  in  Dublin  Castle. 

It  is  only  justice  to  Lord  Norbury  to  add  that  I have 
repeatedly  seen  him  do  things  involuntarily,  which  it  would 
have  been  totally  impossible  for  him  to  have  done  if  con- 
scious at  the  time  of  his  own  actions.  Though  acute  in 
general,  he  occasionally  thought  of  so  many  things  at  once 
that  he  lost  all  recollection  whether  of  place  or  circumstance. 


2l8 


BARRINGTON’S  RECOLLECTIONS. 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 

HENRY  GRATTAN. 

Many  anecdotes  occur  to  me  of  my  late  respected  friend 
Mr.  Grattan.  There  are  but  few,  however,  which  can  throw 
fresh  light  upon  a character  so  long  and  so  generally  known, 
and  which  exhibited  unvarying  excellence. 

I never  met  any  man  who  possessed  the  genuine  elements 
of  courage  in  a higher  degree  than  Mr.  Grattan,  in  whom 
dwelt  a spirit  of  mild,  yet  impetuous  bravery,  which  totally 
banished  all  apprehensions  of  danger. 

I have  already  given  some  account  of  my  contest  for 
Dublin  city,  and  of  the  circumstances  connecting  my  illus- 
trious friend  therewith.  On  the  evening  of  the  first  day  of 
polling,  whilst  I sat  at  dinner,  a servant  announced  that  a 
gentleman  in  a sedan-chair  was  at  the  door  and  wished  to 
speak  to  me.  I immediately  went  out,  and  finding  it  was 
Grattan,  begged  him  to  enter  the  house ; upon  which  he 
desired  his  chair  to  be  taken  into  the  hall.  His  manner 
was  so  agitated  and  mysterious  that  I felt  quite  alarmed, 
and  feared  something  untoward  had  happened  to  him.  We 
went  into  a parlour,  where,  without  any  introductory  obser- 
vation, he  exclaimed,  “ Barrington,  I must  have  a shot  at 
that  rascal  ! ” 

“ Heavens  ! ” said  I,  “ what  rascal  ? ” 

“ There  is  but  one  such  in  the  world  ! ” cried  he — “ that 
Giffard  ! ” 

“ My  dear  Grattan,”  I replied,  “ you  cannot  be  serious  ; 
there  is  no  ground  for  a challenge  on  your  part  ; your 
language  to  him  was  such  as  never  before  was  used  to  human 
creature  ; and  if  he  survives  your  words , no  bullet  would 
have  effect  upon  him.” 


HENRY  GRATTAN. 


219 


“ Ah,  that  won’t  do,  Barrington  ! ” exclaimed  Grattan  ; 
“ he  objected  to  my  voting  for  you  because,  he  said,  I was 
a ‘ discarded  corporator.’  ” 

“ That  was  not  intended  as  personal ,”  said  I ; “ and  even 
had  he  gained  his  point,  would  it  not  be  an  honour  for  you 
to  be  removed  from  such  a corporation  ? ” 

“ Barrington,”  rejoined  he,  “ it’s  of  no  use  ! I must 
have  a shot  at  the  fellow  ; I can’t  sleep  unless  you  go  to 
him  for  me.” 

This  I peremptorily  refused,  arguing  and  reasoning  with 
him  again  and  again  ; he  still  continuing  obstinate,  I begged 
him  to  go  and  ask  the  advice  of  Mr.  George  Ponsonby. 

“ Oh,  no,”  replied  he,  “ Ponsonby  is  a wise  man,  wiser 
than  either  of  us  ; in  fact,  he  is  sometimes  too  wise  and  too 
peaceable.  You  must  go  to  Giffard — perhaps  it  may  not  be 
wisey  but  I know  you  prefer  your  friend’s  honour  to  your 
friend’s  safety.  Come,  now,  get  your  hat,  Barrington  ! ” 
Upwards  of  an  hour  elapsed  before  I could  even  half 
convince  him  that  he  was  wrong  ; but  at  length,  by  the 
only  argument  that  could  make  any  impression  on  him,  I 
extracted  a promise  that  he  would  let  the  affair  drop  — 
“ Grattan,”  said  I,  “ recollect  matters,  and  have  considera- 
tion for  me .”  He  started — “ Yes,”  continued  I,  “ you  know 
it  was  solely  on  my  account  that  you  exposed  yourself  to 
any  insult  ; and  do  you  think  I could  remain  an  idle  spectator 
in  a conflict  whereof  I was  the  cause  ? If  you  do  not  promise 
me  that  you  will  go  ‘ no  further  in  this  business,’  I shall 
instantly  make  the  thing  personal  with  Giffard  myself .” 
For  a moment  he  was  silent,  then  smiling — “ Coriolanus,” 
said  he,  “ replied  to  his  noble  parent,  * Mother  ! you  have 
conquered  ! ’ I will  go  no  further.” 

“ I humbly  thank  you,”  said  I,  “ for  making  an  old 
woman  of  me.”  He  then  went  away,  as  I conceived, 
satisfied.  He  had  come  thus  privately,  for  the  curtains 
were  drawn  round  his  chair,  to  avoid  suspicion  being 


220 


BARRINGTON’S  RECOLLECTIONS. 


excited  of  his  intentions,  and  the  authorities  consequently 
interfering  to  prevent  the  combat.  My  surprise  may  be 
imagined  when,  at  six  o’clock  the  next  morning,  I was 
roused  by  the  same  announcement  of  a gentleman  in  a 
chair.  I knew  it  must  be  Grattan,  and  directed  him  to 
be  brought  in. 

I had  now  the  same  game  to  play  over  again.  He 
said  he  had  not  slept  a wink  all  night  from  thinking  about 
“ that  rascal,”  and  that  he  “ must  have  a shot  at  him.” 
Another  course  now  suggested  itself  to  me,  and  I told 
him  I had,  on  consideration,  determined,  whether  right  or 
wrong,  that  if  he  persevered  I would  wait  upon  the  sheriff 
and  get  him  bound  over  to  keep  the  peace.  He  was  not 
pleased  at  this,  but  had  no  option  ; and  ultimately  we 
both  agreed  not  to  revive  the  subject  during  the  election. 

Mr.  Egan,  one  of  the  roughest-looking  persons  possible, 
being  at  one  time  a supporter  of  Government,  made  viru- 
lent philippics  in  the  Irish  House  of  Commons  against 
the  French  Revolution.  His  figure  was  coarse  and  bloated, 
and  his  dress  not  over-elegant  withal  ; in  fact,  he  had  by 
no  means  the  look  of  a member  of  Parliament. 

One  evening  this  man  fell  foul  of  a speech  of  Grattan’s, 
and,  amongst  other  absurdities,  said  in  his  paroxysm  that 
the  right  honourable  gentleman’s  speech  had  a tendency  to 
introduce  the  guillotine  into  the  very  body  of  the  House  ; 
indeed,  he  almost  thought  he  could  already  perceive  it 
before  him.  (“  Hear  him  ! hear  him  ! ” echoed  from  Sir 
Boyle  Roche.)  Grattan  good-humouredly  replied  that  the 
honourable  member  must  have  a vastly  sharper  sight  than 
he  had.  He  certainly  could  see  no  such  thing  ; “ but 
though,”  added  Grattan,  looking  with  his  glass  toward 
Egan,  “ I may  not  see  the  guillotine,  yet  methinks  I can 
perceive  the  executioner .” 

“ Order  ! Order  ! ” shouted  Sir  Boyle  Roche  ; but  a 
general  laugh  prevented  any  further  observation. 


HENRY  GRATTAN. 


221 


Colonel  Burr,  who  had  been  vice-president  of  America, 
and  probably  would  have  been  the  next  president,  but  for 
his  unfortunate  duel  with  General  Hamilton,  came  over  to 
England,  and  was  made  known  to  me  by  Mr.  Randolph, 
of  South  Carolina,  with  whom  I was  very  intimate.  He 
requested  I would  introduce  him  to  Mr.  Grattan,  whom  he 
was  excessively  anxious  to  see.  Colonel  Burr  was  not  a 
man  of  a very  prepossessing  appearance — rough-featured 
and  neither  dressy  nor  polished,  but  a well-informed, 
sensible  man,  and  though  not  a particularly  agreeable,  yet  an 
instructive  companion. 

People  in  general  form  extravagant  anticipations  regarding 
eminent  persons.  The  idea  of  a great  orator  and  Irish 
chief  carried  with  it,  naturally  enough,  corresponding  notions 
of  physical  elegance,  vigour,  and  dignity.  Such  was  Colonel 
Burr’s  mistake,  I believe,  about  Mr.  Grattan,  and  I took 
care  not  to  undeceive  him. 

We  went  to  my  friend’s  house,  who  was  to  leave  London 
next  day.  I announced  that  Colonel  Burr,  from  America, 
Mr.  Randolph  and  myself,  wished  to  pay  our  respects,  and 
the  servant  informed  us  that  his  master  would  receive  us  in 
a short  time,  but  was  at  the  moment  much  occupied  on 
business  of  consequence.  Burr’s  expectations  were  all  on 
the  alert  ! Randolph  also  was  anxious  to  be  presented  to 
the  great  Grattan,  and  both  impatient  for  the  entrance  of 
this  Demosthenes.  At  length  the  door  opened,  and  in 
hopped  a small  bent  figure,  meagre,  yellow,  and  ordinary — 
one  slipper  and  one  shoe,  his  breeches’  knees  loose,  his 
cravat  hanging  down,  his  shirt  and  coat-sleeves  tucked  up 
high,  and  an  old  hat  upon  his  head. 

This  apparition  saluted  the  strangers  very  courteously  ; 
asked,  without  any  introduction,  how  long  they  had  been  in 
England,  and  immediately  proceeded  to  make  inquiries 
about  the  late  General  Washington  and  the  revolutionary 
war.  My  companions  looked  at  each  other  ; their  replies 

BOSTON  COLLEGE  LIBRARY 
CHEST* UT  HILL,  MASS. 


222 


BARRINGTON’S  RECOLLECTIONS. 


were  costive,  and  they  seemed  quite  impatient  to  see  Mr. 
Grattan.  I could  scarcely  contain  myself,  but  determined 
to  let  my  eccentric  countryman  take  his  course — who 
appeared  quite  delighted  to  see  his  visitors,  and  was  the 
most  inquisitive  person  in  the  world.  Randolph  was  far 
the  taller  and  more  dignified  looking  man  of  the  two,  gray- 
haired and  well-dressed  ; Grattan,  therefore,  of  course,  took 
him  for  the  vice-president,  and  addressed  him  accordingly. 
Randolph  at  length  begged  to  know  if  they  could  shortly 
have  the  honour  of  seeing  Mr.  Grattan.  Upon  which  our 
host,  not  doubting  but  they  knew  him,  conceived  it  must  be 
his  son  James  for  whom  they  inquired,  and  said  he  believed 
he  had  that  moment  wandered  out  somewhere  to  amuse 
himself. 

This  completely  disconcerted  the  Americans,  and  they 
were  about  to  make  their  bow  and  their  exit,  when  I thought 
it  high  time  to  explain  ; and  taking  Colonel  Burr  and  Mr. 
Randolph  respectively  by  the  hand,  introduced  them  to  the 
Right  Honourable  Henry  Grattan. 

I never  saw  people  stare  so,  or  so  much  embarrassed  ! 
Grattan  himself,  now  perceiving  the  cause,  heartily  joined  in 
my  merriment  ; he  pulled  down  his  shirt  sleeves,  pulled  up 
his  stockings,  and  in  his  own  irresistible  way  apologised 
for  the  outre  figure  he  cut,  assuring  them  he  had  totally 
overlooked  it,  in  his  anxiety  not  to  keep  them  waiting — that 
he  was  returning  to  Ireland  next  morning,  and  had  been 
busily  packing  up  his  books  and  papers  in  a closet  full  of 
dust  and  cobwebs  ! This  incident  rendered  the  interview 
more  interesting  ; the  Americans  were  charmed  with  their 
reception,  and  after  a protracted  visit  retired  highly  gratified, 
whilst  Grattan  returned  again  to  his  books  and  cobwebs. 

Nobody  lamented  more  than  myself  the  loss  of  this 
distinguished  man  and  true  patriot,  who,  as  everyone 
knows,  breathed  his  last  in  the  British  metropolis  after  a 
long  and  painful  illness  ; and  the  public  papers  soon  after 


HENRY  GRATTAN. 


223 


announced,  to  my  astonishment  and  chagrin,  the  fact  of 
preparations  being  on  foot  for  his  interment  in  Westminster 
Abbey  ! I say  to  my  astonishment  and  chagrin,  because 
it  was  sufficiently  plain  that  this  affected  mark  of  respect 
was  only  meant  to  restrain  the  honest  enthusiasm  which 
might  have  attended  his  funeral  obsequies  in  his  own 
country. 

The  subtle  minister  then  ruling  the  councils  of  Britain 
knew  full  well  that  vanity  is  the  falsest  guide  of  human 
judgment,  and,  therefore,  held  out  that  Westminster  Abbey 
— the  indiscriminate  dormitory  of  generals  and  spies,  of 
ministers,  and  admirals,  and  poets — was  the  most  honourable 
resting-place  for  the  remains  of  an  Irish  patriot,  and  an 
humble  gravestone  most  congenial  to  Grattan’s  unassuming 
nature.  This  lure  was  successful,  and  accordingly  he  who 
had  made  British  ministers  tremble  in  the  cabinet,  whose 
forbearance  they  had  propitiated  by  a tender  of  the  king’s 
best  palace  in  Ireland,  whose  fame  they  had,  nevertheless, 
endeavoured  to  destroy,  and  whose  principles  they  had 
calumniated,  was  escorted  to  the  grave  by  the  most  decided 
of  his  enemies,  and,  as  if  in  mockery  of  his  country  and 
himself,  inhumed  amongst  the  inveterate  foes  of  Ireland  and 
of  Grattan  ! It  is  mean  to  say  that  Lord  Castlereagh  had 
latterly  changed  his  opinion,  and  become  civil  to  his  illus- 
trious opponent ; so  much  the  worse  ! he  thereby  confessed 
that,  in  1797,  and  the  two  following  years,  he  had  laboured 
to  destroy  an  innocent  man  and  to  disgrace  an  Irish  patriot, 
who  during  a great  portion  of  that  period  lay  on  the  bed  of 
sickness.  The  Duke  of  Leinster,  doubtless  with  the  best 
possible  motives,  but  with  a view  of  the  subject  differing 
from  my  own,  suggested  that  Ireland  should  do  honour  to 
her  patriot  son  by  erecting  a cenotaph  to  his  memory. 
This,  I must  confess,  appears  to  me — I speak  of  it  merely  as 
matter  of  opinion — to  be  nothing  more  than  cold-blooded 
mockery — a compliment  diminutive  and  empty.  Toward 


224 


FARRINGTON’?  RECOLLECTIONS. 


such  a monument  I would  not  subscribe  one  farthing  ; but 
if  the  revered  ashes  of  my  friend  could  be  restored  to  his 
country,  and  enshrined  beneath  the  sky  of  green  Erin,  there 
is  no  Irishman  who,  in  proportion  to  his  means,  should  go 
beyond  myself  in  contributing  to  uplift  a monumental 
column  which  should  outvie  the  pillars  dedicated  in  Dublin 
to  the  glorious  butcheries  of  Trajalgar  and  Waterloo  : whilst 
these  are  proudly  commemorated,  no  national  pile  records 
the  more  truly  glorious  triumphs  of  1782,  nor  the  formation 
of  that  irresistible  army  of  volunteers  which,  in  a right  cause, 
defied  all  the  power  of  England  ! But  my  voice  shall  not 
be  silent ; and  deeply  do  I regret  the  untoward  fate  by 
which  this  just  tribute  to  national  and  individual  virtues  has 
devolved  upon  the  feeble  powers  of  an  almost  superannuated 
writer. 

Ireland  gave  me  birth  and  bread,  and  though  I am  dis- 
gusted with  its  present  state,  I love  the  country  still.  I 
have  endeavoured  to  give,  in  a more  important  wrork,  some 
sketches  of  its  modern  history  at  the  most  prosperous 
epochs,  together  with  many  gloomy  anecdotes  of  its  fall 
and  annihilation  as  an  independent  kingdom  ; and  if  God 
grants  me  a little  longer  space,  I shall  leave  behind  my 
honest  ideas  of  its  existing  condition,  and  of  the  ruin  to 
which  the  British  Empire  will  not  long  remain  blind,  if  she 
continue  to  pursue  the  same  system  in  that  misgoverned 
country. 

Extract  of  a letter  from  Sir  Jonah  Barrington  to  the 
present  Henry  Grattan,  Esq.,  M.P.  : — 

“ My  dear  Grattan, 

“ I regret  your  not  receiving  my  letter,  written 
immediately  after  the  lamented  departure  of  my  honoured 
friend.  In  that  letter  I proposed  forthwith  to  publish  the 
sequel  of  my  character  of  Mr.  Grattan,  accompanied  with 
his  portrait  and  some  additional  observations.  I had  com- 
posed the  sequel,  much  to  my  own  satisfaction,  as  the 


HENRY  GRATTAN. 


225 


continuation  of  his  character  promised  in  the  number  of  my 
historical  work,  where  I say  ‘ his  career  is  not  yet  finished/ 
“ Having  received  no  reply  to  that  letter,  I threw  the 
manuscript  into  the  fire,  keeping  no  copy  ; it  was  scarcely 
consumed,  however,  before  I repented  of  having  done 
so. 

“ And  now  permit  an  old  and  sensitive  friend  to 
expostulate  a little  with  you,  in  the  simple  garb  of  queries  : 
“ Why,  and  for  what  good  reason — with  what  policy,  or 
on  what  feeling,  are  the  bones  of  the  most  illustrious  of 
Irishmen  suffered  to  moulder  in  the  same  ground  with  his 
country’s  enemies  ? 

“ Why  suffer  him  to  be  escorted  to  the  grave  by  the  mock 
pageantry  of  those  whose  vices  and  corruptions  ravished 
from  Ireland  everything  which  his  talent  and  integrity  had 
obtained  for  her  ? » 

“ Why  send  his  countrymen  on  a foreign  pilgrimage,  to 
worship  at  the  shrine  of  their  canonised  benefactor  ? Were 
not  the  cathedrals  of  Ireland  worthy  to  be  honoured  by  his 
urn,  or  the  youths  of  Erin  to  be  animated  by  knowing  that 
they  possessed  his  ashes  ? Can  it  be  gratifying  to  the 
feelings  of  his  countrymen  to  pay  the  sexton  of  a British 
abbey  a mercenary  shilling  for  permission  even  to  see  the 
gravestone  of  your  parent  ? * 

“You  were  deceived  by  the  blandishments  of  our  mortal 
enemy  ; he  knew  that  political  idolatry  has  great  power,  and 
excites  great  influence  in  nations.  The  shrine  of  a patriot 
has  often  proved  to  be  the  standard  of  liberty  ; and  it  was, 
therefore,  good  policy  in  a British  statesman  to  suppress  our 
excitements — the  bust  of  Rousseau  is  immortalised  on  the 
Continent ; the  tradition  of  Grattan  only  will  remain  to  his 
compatriots. 

* I was  myself  once  refused  even  admittance  into  Westminster 
Abbey,  wherein  his  ashes  rest  ! — the  sexton  affirming  that  the  proper 
hour  was  past ! 

(D. 311) 


Q 


220  BARRINGTON'S  RECOLLECTIONS. 

“ He  lived  the  life,  he  died  the  death,  but  he  does  not  sleep 
in  the  tomb  of  an  Irish  patriot ! England  has  taken  away 
our  constitution,  and  even  the  relics  of  its  founder  are 
retained  through  the  duplicity  of  his  enemy. 

“ You  have  now  my  sentiments  on  the  matter,  and  by 
frankly  expressing  them,  I have  done  my  duty  to  you,  to 
myself,  and  my  country. 

“ Your  ever  affectionate  and  sincere  friend, 

“ Jonah  Barrington.” 


LOUD  ALDBOROUGH. 


227 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

LORD  ALDBOROUGH. 

Lord  Aldborough  was  an  arrogant  and  ostentatious  man  ; 
but  these  failings  were  nearly  redeemed  by  his  firmness  and 
gallantry  in  his  memorable  collision  with  Lord  Chancellor 
Clare. 

Lord  Aldborough,  who  had  built  a most  tasteful  and 
handsome  house  immediately  at  the  northern  extremity 
of  Dublin,  had  an  equity  suit  with  Mr.  Beresford,  a nephew 
of  Lord  Clare,  as  to  certain  lots  of  ground  close  to  his  lord- 
ship’s new  mansion,  which,  among  other  conveniences,  had 
a chapel  on  one  wing  and  a theatre  on  the  other,  stretching 
away  from  the  centre  in  a chaste  style  of  ornamental  archi- 
tecture. 

The  cause  was  in  Chancery,  and  was  not  protracted  very 
long.  Lord  Aldborough  was  defeated  with  full  costs — his 
pride,  his  purse,  and  his  mansion  must  all  suffer,  and 
meddling  with  either  of  these  was  sufficient  to  rouse  his 
lordship’s  spleen.  He  appealed,  therefore,  to  the  House  of 
Peers,  where  in  due  season  the  cause  came  on  for  hearing, 
and  where  the  Chancellor  himself  presided.  The  lay  lords 
did  not  much  care  to  interfere  in  the  matter  ; and  without 
loss  of  time  Lord  Clare  of  the  House  of  Peers  confirmed  the 
decree  of  Lord  Clare  of  the  Court  of  Chancery,  with  full 
costs  against  the  appellant. 

Lord  Aldborough  had  now  no  redress  but  to  write  at  the 
Lord  Chancellor,  and  without  delay  he  fell  to  composing  a 
book  against  Lord  Clare  and  the  system  of  appellant  juris- 
diction, stating  that  it  was  totally  an  abuse  of  justice  to  be 
obliged  to  appeal  to  a prejudiced  man  against  his  own 
prejudices,  and  particularly  so  in  the  present  instance, 


228 


BARRINGTON'S  RECOLLECTIONS. 


Lord  Clare  being  notorious  as  an  unforgiving  Chancellor 
to  those  who  vexed  him,  and  no  lords  attending  to  hear  the 
cause,  or  if  they  did,  not  being  much  wiser  for  the  hearing, 
it  being  the  province  of  a counsel  to  puzzle,  not  to  inform 
noblemen. 

Lord  Aldborough  in  his  book  humorously  enough  stated 
an  occurrence  that  had  happened  to  himself  when  travelling 
in  Holland.  His  lordship  was  going  to  Amsterdam  on 
one  of  the  canals  in  a trekschuit,  the  captain  or  skipper 
of  which,  being  a great  rogue,  extorted  from  his  lordship 
for  his  passage  much  more  than  he  had  a lawful  right  to 
claim.  My  lord  expostulated  with  the  skipper  in  vain  ; the 
fellow  grew  rude  ; his  lordship  persisted  ; the  skipper  got 
more  abusive.  At  length  Lord  Aldborough  told  him  he 
would,  on  landing,  immediately  go  to  the  proper  tribunals 
and  get  redress  from  the  judge.  The  skipper  cursed  him  as 
an  impudent  milord , and  desired  him  to  do  his  worst,  snap- 
ping his  tarry  finger-posts  in  his  lordship’s  face.  Lord 
Aldborough  paid  the  demand,  and  on  landing  went  to  the 
legal  officer  to  know  when  the  court  of  justice  would  sit.  He 
was  answered  at  nine  next  morning.  Having  no  doubt  of 
ample  redress,  he  did  not  choose  to  put  the  skipper  on  his 
guard  by  mentioning  his  intentions.  Next  morning  he  went 
to  court  and  began  to  tell  his  story  to  the  judge,  who  sat 
with  his  broad-brimmed  hat  on,  in  great  state,  to  hear  causes 
of  that  nature.  His  lordship  fancied  he  had  seen  the  man 
before,  nor  was  he  long  in  doubt ! for  ere  he  had  half 
finished,  the  judge,  in  a voice  like  thunder,  but  which  his 
lordship  immediately  recognised,  for  it  was  that  of  the 
identical  skipper  ! decided  against  him  with  full  costs , and 
ordered  him  out  of  court.  His  lordship,  however,  said  he 
would  appeal , and  away  he  went  to  an  advocate  for  that 
purpose.  He  did  accordingly  appeal,  and  the  next  day  his 
appeal  cause  came  regularly  on.  But  all  his  lordship’s 
stoicism  forsook  him,  when  he  again  found  that  the  very 


LORD  ALDBOROUGH. 


229 


same  skipper  and  judge  was  to  decide  the  appeal  who  had 
decided  the  cause , so  that  the  learned  skipper  first  cheated 
and  then  laughed  at  him. 

The  noble  writer,  having  in  his  book  made  a very  im- 
proper and  derogatory  application  of  his  Dutch  precedent 
to  Lord  Chancellor  Clare  and  the  Irish  appellant  jurisdiction, 
was  justly  considered  by  his  brother  peers  as  having  com- 
mitted a gross  breach  of  their  privileges,  and  was  thereupon 
ordered  to  attend  in  his  place  and  defend  himself,  if  any 
defence  he  had,  from  the  charge  made  against  him  by  the 
Lord  Chancellor  and  the  peers  of  Ireland.  Of  course,  the 
House  of  Lords  was  thronged  to  excess  to  hear  his  lordship’s 
vindication.  I went  an  hour  before  it  met  to  secure  a place 
behind  the  throne,  where  the  Commoners  were  allowed  to 
crowd  up  as  well  as  they  could. 

The  Chancellor,  holding  the  vicious  book  in  his  hand, 
asked  Lord  Aldborough  if  he  admitted  that  it  was  of  his 
writing  and  publication  ? to  which  his  lordship  replied 
that  he  could  admit  nothing  as  written  or  published  by  him 
till  every  word  of  it  should  be  first  truly  read  to  their  lord- 
ships  aloud  in  the  House.  Lord  Clare  wishing  to  curtail 
some  parts,  began  to  read  it  himself  ; but  not  being  quite 
near  enough  to  the  light,  his  opponent  took  a pair  of  enor- 
mous candlesticks  from  the  table,  walked  deliberately  up  to 
the  throne,  and  requested  the  Chancellor’s  permission  to  hold 
the  candles  for  him  whilst  he  was  reading  the  book  ! This 
novel  sort  of  effrontery  put  the  Chancellor  completely  off 
his  guard — he  was  outdone,  and  permitted  Lord  Aldborough 
to  hold  the  lights,  whilst  he  perused  the  libel  comparing 
him  to  a Dutch  skipper,  nor  did  the  obsequious  author 
omit  to  set  him  right  here  and  there  when  he  omitted  a word 
or  proper  emphasis.  It  was  ludicrous  beyond  example, 
and  gratifying  to  the  secret  ill-wishers  of  Lord  Clare,  who 
bore  no  small  proportion  to  the  aggregate  numbers  of  the 
House.  The  libel  being  duly  read  through,  Lord  Aid- 


230 


Barrington's  recollections. 


borough  at  once  spiritedly  and  adroitly  said  that  he  avowed 
every  word  of  it  to  their  lordships  ; but  that  it  was  not 
intended  as  any  libel  either  against  the  House  or  the  juris- 
diction, but  as  a constitutional  and  just  rebuke  to  their 
lordships  for  not  performing  their  bounden  duty  in  attending 
the  hearing  of  the  appeal  ; he  being  quite  certain  that  if 
any  sensible  men  had  been  present,  the  Lord  Chancellor 
would  only  have  had  two  lords  and  two  bishops,  his  own 
creatures,  on  his  side  of  the  question. 

This  was  considered  as  an  aggravation  of  the  contempt, 
though  some  thought  it  was  not  very  far  from  the  matter-of- 
fact.  The  result  was,  that  after  a bold  speech,  delivered 
with  great  earnestness,  his  lordship  was  voted  guilty  of  a 
high  breach  of  privilege,  and  a libel  on  the  Lord  Chancellor, 
as  Chairman  of  the  House.  He  was  afterwards  ordered  to 
Newgate  for  six  months  by  the  Court  of  King's  Bench,  on 
an  information  filed  against  him  by  the  Attorney-General, 
which  sentence,  his  lordship  told  them,  he  considered  under 
the  circumstances  as  a high  compliment  and  honour.  In 
fact,  he  never  was  so  pleased  as  when  speaking  of  the 
incident,  and  declaring  that  he  expected  to  have  his  book 
recorded  on  the  Journals  of  the  Lords — the  Chancellor  him- 
self, by  applying  his  anecdote  of  the  Dutch  skipper,  having 
construed  it  into  a regular  episode  on  their  proceedings. 


JOHN  PHILPOT  CURRAN. 


231 


CHAPTER  XXX. 

JOHN  PHILPOT  CURRAN. 

There  have  been  few  public  men  whose  characters  have 
afforded  a more  ample  field  for  comment  than  that  of  Mr. 
Curran,  and  there  are  very  few  who  have  been  more  miser- 
ably handled  by  their  biographers.  Young  men  who  fancied 
they  knew  him  because  they  were  latterly  in  his  society,  in 
fact,  knew  him  not  at  all.  None  but  the  intimates  of  his 
earlier  and  brighter  days,  and  even  among  such,  those  only 
who  had  mixed  with  him  in  general  as  well  as  professional 
society  could  possibly  estimate  the  inconsistent  qualities  of 
that  celebrated  orator. 

My  intimacy  with  Curran  was  long  and  close.  I knew 
every  turn  of  his  mind  and  every  point  of  his  capacity.  He 
was  not  fitted  to  pursue  the  niceties  of  detail  ; but  his 
imagination  was  infinite,  his  fancy  boundless,  his  wit  inde- 
fatigable. There  was  scarce  any  species  of  talent  to  which 
he  did  not  possess  some  pretension.  He  was  gifted  by 
Nature  with  the  faculties  of  an  advocate  and  a dramatist ; 
and  the  lesser  but  ingenious  accomplishment  of  personifica- 
tion, without  mimicry,  was  equally  familiar  to  him.  In  the 
circles  of  society,  where  he  appeared  everybody’s  superior, 
nobody  ever  seemed  jealous  of  the  superiority. 

Curran’s  person  was  mean  and  decrepit  ; very  slight,  very 
shapeless — with  nothing  of  the  gentleman  about  it ; on 
the  contrary,  displaying  spindle  limbs,  a shambling  gait,  one 
hand  imperfect,  and  a face  yellow,  furrowed,  rather  flat  and 
thoroughly  ordinary.  Yet  his  features  were  the  very  reverse 
of  disagreeable ; there  was  something  so  indescribably 
dramatic  in  his  eye  and  the  play  of  his  eybrow,  that  his 
visage  seemed  the  index  of  his  mind,  and  his  humour  the 


232  BARRINGTON’S  RECOLLECTIONS. 

slave  of  his  will.  I never  was  so  happy  in  the  company 
of  any  man  as  in  Curran’s  for  many  years.  His  very 
foibles  were  amusing.  He  had  no  vein  for  poetry  ; yet 
fancying  himself  a bard,  he  contrived  to  throw  crff  pretty 
verses  ; he  certainly  was  no  musician  ; but  conceiving  him- 
self to  be  one,  played  very  pleasingly  ; Nature  had  denied 
him  a voice,  but  he  thought  he  could  sing  ; and  in  the 
rich  mould  of  his  capabilities  the  desire  here  also  bred, 
in  some  degree,  the  capacity. 

It  is  a curious  but  a just  remark  that  every  slow,  crawling 
reptile  is  in  the  highest  degree  disgusting,  whilst  an  insect 
ten  times  uglier,  if  it  be  sprightly  and  seems  bent  upon 
enjoyment,  excites  no  shuddering.  It  is  so  with  the  human 
race  ; had  Curran  been  a dull,  slothful,  inanimate  being,  his 
talents  would  not  have  redeemed  his  personal  defects.  But 
his  rapid  movements,  his  fire,  his  sparkling  eye,  the  fine  and 
varied  intonations  of  his  voice,  these  conspired  to  give  life 
and  energy  to  every  company  he  mixed  with  ; and  I have 
known  ladies  who,  after  an  hour’s  conversation,  actually  con- 
sidered Curran  a beauty , and  preferred  his  society  to  that  of 
the  finest  fellows  present.  There  is,  however,  it  must  be 
admitted,  a good  deal  in  the  circumstance  of  a man  being 
celebrated , as  regards  the  patronage  of  women. 

Curran  had  a perfect  horror  of  fleas  ; nor  was  this  very 
extraordinary,  since  those  vermin  seemed  to  shew  him 
peculiar  hostility.  If  they  infested  a house,  my  friend  said 
that  “ they  always  flocked  to  his  bed-chamber  when  they 
heard  he  was  to  sleep  there  ! ” I recollect  his  being  dread- 
fully annoyed  in  this  way  at  Carlow,  and  on  making  his 
complaint  in  the  morning  to  the  woman  of  the  house,  “ By 
Heavens  ! madam,”  cried  he,  “ they  were  in  such  numbers, 
and  seized  upon  my  carcass  with  so  much  ferocity,  that  if 
they  had  been  unanimous , and  all  pulled  one  way,  they  must 
have  dragged  me  out  of  bed  entirely  ! ” 

Curran  and  I were  in  the  habit  for  several  years  of  meet- 


JOHN  PHILPOT  CURRAN. 


233 


ing,  by  appointment,  in  London  during  the  long  vacation, 
and  spending  a month  there  together,  in  the  enjoyment  of 
the  public  amusements,  but  we  were  neither  extravagant  nor 
dissipated.  We  had  both  some  propensities  in  common, 
and  a never-failing  amusement  was  derived  from  drawing  out 
and  remarking  upon  eccentric  characters.  Curran  played  on 
such  people  as  he  would  on  an  instrument,  and  produced 
whatever  tone  he  thought  proper  from  them.  Thus  he 
always  had  a good  fiddle  in  London,  which  he  occasionally 
brought  to  our  dining-house  for  the  general  entertainment. 

We  were  in  the  habit  of  frequenting  the  Cannon  Coffee- 
house, Charing  Cross,  kept  by  the  uncle  of  Mr.  Roberts, 
proprietor  of  the  Royal  Hotel,  Calais,  where  we  had  a box 
every  day  at  the  end  of  the  room  ; and  as  when  Curran  was 
free  from  professional  cares,  his  universal  language  was  that 
of  wit,  my  high  spirits  never  failed  to  prompt  my  perform- 
ance of  Jackal  to  the  Lion . Two  young  gentlemen  of  the 
Irish  bar  were  frequently  of  our  party  in  1796,  and  con- 
tributed to  keep  up  the  flow  of  wit  which,  on  Curran’s  part, 
was  well-nigh  miraculous.  Gradually  the  ear  and  atten- 
tion of  the  company  were  caught.  Nobody  knew  us, 
and  as  if  carelessly  the  guests  flocked  round  our  box  to  listen. 
We  perceived  them,  and  increased  our  flights  accordingly, 
involuntarily  they  joined  in  the  laugh,  and  the  more  so 
when  they  saw  it  gave  no  offence.  Day  after  day  the 
number  of  our  satellites  increased  until  the  room  at  five 
o’clock  was  thronged  to  hear  “ the  Irishmen.”  One  or  two 
days  we  went  elsewhere,  and  on  returning  to  “ the  Cannon  ” 
our  host  begged  to  speak  a word  with  me  at  the  bar.  “ Sir,” 
said  he,  “ I never  had  such  a set  of  pleasant  gentlemen  in 
my  house,  and  I hope  you  have  received  no  offence.”  I 
replied,  “ Quite  the  contrary  ! ” — “ Why,  sir,”  rejoined  he, 
“ as  you  did  not  come  the  last  few  days  the  company  fell 
off.  Now,  sir,  I hope  you  and  the  other  gentleman  will 
excuse  me  if  I remark  that  you  will  find  an  excellent  dish  of 


234  Barrington’s  recollections. 

fish,  and  a roast  turkey  or  joint,  with  any  wine  you  please, 
hot  on  your  table  every  day  at  five  o’clock  whilst  you  stay  in 
town,  and  I must  beg  to  add,  no  charge , gentlemen.” 

I reported  to  Curran,  and  we  agreed  to  see  it  out.  The 
landlord  was  as  good  as  his  word  ; the  room  was  filled  ; we 
coined  stories  to  tell  each  other,  the  lookers-on  laughed 
almost  to  convulsions,  and  for  some  time  we  literally  feasted. 
Having  had  our  humour  out,  I desired  a bill,  which  the 
landlord  positively  refused  ; however,  we  computed  for  our- 
selves, and  sent  him  a £ 10  note  enclosed  in  a letter,  desiring 
him  to  give  the  balance  to  his  waiters. 

The  present  Lord  Clancarty  was  called  to  the  Irish  bar. 
Most  men  are  found  to  have  some  predominant  quality 
when  it  is  properly  drawn  forth  ; but  in  sending  Mr. 
Trench  to  the  bar,  his  friends  found,  after  a due  novitiate, 
that  they  were  endeavouring  to  extract  the  wrong  commodity, 
and  that  his  law  would  never  furnish  a sufficient  depot 
to  recruit  his  pocket.  During  the  rebellion,  however, 
I discovered  that  he  was  a most  excellent  sergeant  of 
dragoons,  in  which  capacity  his  lordship  was  my  subaltern 
in  the  barristers’  cavalry  ; and  I have  the  satisfaction 
of  reflecting  that  a considerable  portion  of  our  rank  and  file 
were,  in  a very  short  time  after  the  Union,  metamorphosed 
into  ambassadors,  secretaries,  judges,  noblemen,  bishops, 
and  ministers  ! What  a loss  must  the  empire  have  sustained 
if  we  had  been  all  piked  by  the  rebels  ! — a result  not  very 
improbable,  as  I am  apprehensive  we  should  have  proved 
rather  helpless  fellows  in  a general  engagement  with  20,000 
or  30,000  of  those  desperate  gentry  ! in  which  case  the 
whole  kingdom  of  Ireland  would  have  been  left  with  scarcely 
sufficient  professors  of  the  art  of  litigation  to  keep  that  science, 
as  well  as  the  church  and  state,  in  preservation  till  new 
lawyers  could  be  broke  into  the  harness. 

Curran  took  no  part  in  those  fierce  military  associations, 
and  he  was  quite  right.  He  was  perfectly  unadapted  either 


JOHN  PHILPOT  CURRAN. 


235 


to  command  or  to  obey  ; and  as  he  must  have  done  the  one 
or  the  other,  he  managed  much  better  by  keeping  out  of  the 
broil  altogether  ; as  he  himself  said  to  me — “ If  I were 
mounted  on  ever  so  good  a charger,  it  is  probable  I should 
not  stick  ten  minutes  on  his  back  in  any  kind  of  battle  ; and 
if  my  sword  was  ever  so  sharp,  I should  not  be  able  to  cut  a 
rebel’s  head  off  unless  he  promised  to  ‘ stand  easy  ’ and  in 
a good  position  for  me.” 

Curran  had  ordered  a new  bar  wig,  and  not  liking  the  cut 
of  it,  he  jestingly  said  to  the  peruke-maker,  “ Mr.  Gahan, 
this  wig  will  not  answer  me  at  all  ! ” 

“ How  so,  sir  ! ” said  Gahan — “ it  seems  to  fit.” 

“ Ay,”  replied  Curran,  “ but  it  is  the  very  worst  speaking 
wig  I ever  had.  I can  scarcely  utter  one  word  of  common 
law  in  it  ; and  as  for  equity , it  is  totally  out  of  the  question.” 

“ Well,  sir,”  said  Mr.  Gahan,  the  wigmaker,  with  a 
serious  face,  “ I hope  it  may  be  no  loss  to  me.  I daresay 
it  will  answer  Counsellor  Trench.” 

But  Counsellor  Trench  would  not  take  the  wig.  He  said 
he  could  not  hear  a word  in  it.  At  length  it  was  sent  by 
Gahan  to  Mr.  Vesey  Fitzgerald,  who  having  at  that  time  no 
pressing  occasion  for  either  a speaking  or  hearing  wig  in  a 
professional  way,  and  the  wig  fitting  his  head,  he  purchased 
it  from  Mr.  Gahan,  who  sold  it  a bargain  on  account  of  its 
bad  character ; though  Curran  afterwards  said,  “ he  admitted 
that  the  wig  had  been  grossly  calumniated  ; for  the  very 
same  head  which  Mr.  Vesey  Fitzgerald  then  put  it  on  was 
afterwards  stationed  at  the  front  of  the  Irish  exchequer, 
where  every  one  of  the  king’s  debtors  and  farmers  were  - 
obliged  to  pay  the  wigwearer  some  very  handsome  and 
substantial  compliment  ! — Mr.  Fitzgerald  not  being  necessi- 
tated either  to  hear  or  speak  one  word  upon  the  occasion.” 
Chief  Justice  Carleton  was  a very  lugubrious  personage. 
He  never  ceased  complaining  of  his  bad  state  of  health,  or 
rather  of  his  hypochondriasm,  and  frequently  introduced 


236 


Barrington’s  recollections. 


Lady  Carleton  into  his  Book  of  Lamentations  : thence  it  was 
remarked  by  Curran  to  be  very  extraordinary  that  the  chief 
justice  should  appear  as  plaintiff  ( plaintive ) in  every  cause 
that  happened  to  come  before  him  ! 

One  Nisi  Prius  day,  Lord  Carleton  came  into  court 
looking  unusually  gloomy.  He  apologised  to  the  bar  for 
being  necessitated  to  adjourn  the  court  and  dismiss  the  jury 
for  that  day,  “ though,”  proceeded  his  lordship,  “ I am  aware 
that  an  important  issue  stands  for  trial  ; but  the  fact  is,  I 
have  met  with  a domestic  misfortune,  which  has  altogether 
deranged  my  nerves  ! Poor  Lady  Carleton  (in  a low  tone 
to  the  bar)  has  most  unfortunately  miscarried , and  ” 

“Oh,  then,  my  lord  ! ” exclaimed  Curran,  “ there  was  no 
necessity  for  your  lordship  to  make  any  apology,  since  it  now 
appears  that  your  lordship  has  no  issue  to  try.” 

The  chief  justice  faintly  smiled,  and  thanked  the  bar  for 
their  consideration. 

In  1812  Curran  dined  at  my  house  in  Brook  Street, 
London.  He  was  very  dejected  ; I did  my  utmost  to  rouse 
him,  in  vain.  He  leaned  his  face  on  his  hand,  and  was  long 
silent.  He  looked  yellow,  wrinkled,  and  livid  ; the  dramatic 
fire  had  left  his  eye,  the  spirit  of  his  wit  had  fled,  his  person 
was  shrunken,  and  his  whole  demeanour  miserable  and 
distressing. 

After  a long  pause,  a dubious  tear  standing  in  his  eye,  he 
on  a sudden  exclaimed  with  a sort  of  desperate  composure, 
“ Barrington,  I am  perishing  ! day  by  day  Lm  perishing  ! I 
feel  it ; you  knew  me  when  I lived , and  you  witness  my 
annihilation.”  He  was  again  silent. 

I felt  deeply  for  him.  I saw  that  he  spoke  truth  ; reason- 
ing would  have  only  increased  the  malady,  and,  I,  therefore, 
tried  another  course — bagatelle . I jested  with  him,  and 
reminded  him  of  old  anecdotes.  He  listened — gradually 
his  attention  was  caught,  and  at  length  I excited  a smile  ; a 
laugh  soon  followed,  a few  glasses  of  wine  brought  him  to 


JOHN  PHILPOT  CURRAN. 


237 


his  natural  temperament,  and  Curran  was  himself  for  a great 
part  of  the  evening.  I saw,  however,  that  he  would  soon 
relapse,  and  so  it  turned  out  ; he  began  to  talk  to  me  about 
his  family,  and  that  very  wildly.  He  had  conceived  some 
strange  prejudices  on  this  head,  which  I disputed  with  him, 
until  I wearied  of  the  subject. 

We  supped  together,  and  he  sat  cheerful  enough  till  I 
turned  him  into  a coach  at  one  o’clock  in  the  morning.  I 
never  saw  him  after  in  London. 


238 


BARRINGTON’S  RECOLLECTIONS. 


CHAPTER  XXXI. 

THE  LAW  OF  LIBEL. 

In  the  early  part  of  my  life  the  Irish  press,  though  supposed 
to  be  under  due  restraint,  was,  in  fact,  quite  uncontrolled. 
From  the  time  of  Dean  Swift  and  Drapier’s  Letters  its 
freedom,  had  increased  at  intervals  not  only  as  to  public 
but  private  subjects.  This  was  attributable  to  several 
curious  causes,  which  combined  to  render  the  law  of  libel, 
although  stronger  in  theory,  vastly  feebler  in  practice  than 
at  the  present  day  ; and  whoever  takes  the  trouble  of  looking 
into  the  Irish  newspapers  about  the  commencement  of  the 
American  Revolution,  and  in  1782,  will  find  therein  some 
of  the  boldest  writing  and  ablest  libels  in  the  English 
language.  Junius  was  the  pivot  on  which  the  liberty  of 
the  press  at  one  time  vibrated — liberty  was  triumphant ; 
but  if  that  precedent  were  to  prevail  to  the  same  extent,  I 
am  not  sure  it  would  not  achieve  too  much. 

The  law  of  libel  in  England,  however  railed  at,  appears  to 
me  upon  the  freest  footing  that  private  or  public  security  can 
possibly  admit.  The  press  is  not  encumbered  by  any 
previous  restraints.  Any  man  may  write,  print,  and  publish 
whatever  he  pleases,  and  none  but  his  own  peers  and  equals, 
in  two  distinct  capacities,  can  declare  his  culpability,  or 
enable  the  law  to  punish  him  as  a criminal  for  a breach  of 
it.  I cannot  conceive  what  greater  liberty  or  protection  the 
press  can  require,  or  ought  to  enjoy.  If  a man  voluntarily 
commits  an  offence  against  the  law  of  libel  with  his  eyes 
open,  it  is  only  fair  that  he  should  abide  by  the  statute  that 
punishes  him  for  doing  so.  Despotic  governments  employ 
a previous  censorship,  in  order  to  cloak  their  crimes  and 
establish  their  tyranny.  England,  on  the  other  hand, 


THE  LAW  OF  LIBEL. 


239 


appoints  independent  judges  and  sworn  jurors  to  defend 
her  liberties,  and  hence  is  confirmed  to  the  press  a whole- 
some latitude  of  full  and  fair  discussion  on  every  public  man 
and  measure. 

The  law  of  libel  in  Ireland  was  formerly  very  loose  and 
badly  understood,  and  the  courts  there  had  no  particular 
propensity  for  multiplying  legal  difficulties  on  ticklish 
subjects. 

The  judges  were  then  dependent,  a circumstance  which 
might  have  partially  accounted  for  such  causes  being  less 
frequent  than  in  later  times  ; but  another  reason,  more 
extensively  operating,  was  that  in  those  days  men  who  were 
libelled  generally  took  the  law  into  their  own  hands,  and 
eased  the  King’s  Bench  of  great  trouble  by  the  substitution 
of  a small  sword  for  a declaration,  or  a case  of  pistols  for  a 
judgment ; and  these  same  articles  certainly  formed  a 
greater  check  upon  the  propagation  of  libels  than  the 
twelve  judges  and  thirty-six  jurors  altogether  at  the  present 
day,  and  gave  rise  to  a code  of  laws  very  different  from 
those  we  call  municipal.  A third  consideration  is,  that 
scolding  matches  and  disputes  among  soldiers  were  then 
never  made  matters  of  legal  inquiry.  Military  officers  are 
now  by  statute  held  unfit  to  remain  such  if  they  fight 
■ one  another,  whilst  formerly  they  were  thought  unfit  to 
remain  in  the  army  if  they  did  not ; formerly  they  were 
bound  to  fight  in  person,  now  they  can  fight  by  proxy, 
and  in  Ireland  may  lure  champions  to  contest  the  matter 
for  them  every  day  in  the  week,  Sunday  excepted,  and  so 
decide  their  quarrels  without  the  least  danger  or  one  drop 
of  bloodshed.  A few  able  lawyers,  armed  with  paper  and 
parchment,  will  fight  for  them  all  day  long,  and  if  necessary 
all  night  likewise,  and  that,  probably,  for  only  as  much 
recompense  as  may  be  sufficient  to  provide  a handsome 
entertainment  to  some  of  the  spectators  and  to  their  pioneer 
attorney,  who  is  generally  bottleholder  on  these  occasions. 


240 


Barrington’s  recollections 


Another  curious  anomaly  is  become  obvious.  If  lawyers 
now  refuse  to  pistol  each  other,  they  may  be  scouted  out  of 
society,  though  duelling  is  against  the  law  ! but  if  military 
officers  take  a shot  at  each  other,  they  may  be  dismissed 
from  the  army,  though  fighting  is  the  essence  and  object  of 
their  profession  ; so  that  a civilian,  by  the  new  lights  of 
society,  changes  places  with  the  soldier — the  soldier  is 
bound  to  be  peaceable,  and  the  civilian  is  forced  to  be 
pugnacious — cedent  arma  togoe . It  is  curious  to  conjecture 
what  our  next  metamorphosis  may  be  ! 

The  first  publication  which  gave  rise,  so  far  as  I can 
remember,  to  decided  measures  for  restraining  the  Irish 
press  was  a newspaper  called  Hoy's  Mercury , published 
nearly  fifty  years  ago  by  Mr.  Peter  Hoy,  a printer  in  Parlia- 
ment Street,  whom  I saw  some  time  since  in  his  shop  on 
Ormond  Quay  in  good  health,  and  who  voted  for  me  on 
the  Dublin  election  of  1803. 

In  this  newspaper  Mr.  Hoy  brought  forward  two  fictitious 
characters — one  called  Van  Trump,  the  other  Epaphroditus 
Dodridge.  These  he  represented  as  standing  together  in 
one  of  the  most  public  promenades  of  the  Irish  capital,  and 
the  one,  on  describing  the  appearance,  features,  and  dress  of 
each  passer-by,  and  asking  his  companion  “ who  that  was  ? ” 
received  in  reply  a full  account  of  the  individual,  to  such  a 
degree  of  accuracy  as  to  leave  no  doubt  respecting  identity, 
particularly  in  a place  so  contracted  as,  comparatively 
speaking,  Dublin  then  was.  In  this  way  as  much  libellous 
matter  was  disseminated  as  would  now  send  a publisher  to 
gaol  for  half  his  life  ; and  the  affair  was  so  warmly  and 
generally  taken  up  that  the  lawyers  were  set  to  work,  Peter 
Hoy  sadly  terrified,  and  Van  Trump  and  Epaphroditus 
Dodridge  banished  from  that  worthy  person’s  newspaper. 

But  the  most  remarkable  observation  is,  that  so  soon  as 
the  Irish  judges  were,  in  1782,  made  by  statute  independent 
of  the  Crown,  the  law  of  libel  became  more  strictly  construed, 


THE  LAW  OF  LIBEL. 


24I 


and  the  libellers  more  severely  punished.  This  can  only 
be  accounted  for  by  supposing  that,  while  dependent,  the 
judges  felt  that  any  peculiar  rigour  might  be  attributed,  in 
certain  instances,  less  to  their  justice  than  to  their  policy  ; 
and  being  thus  sensitive,  especially  in  regard  to  Crown  cases, 
they  were  chary  of  pushing  their  enactments  to  their  full 
scope.  After  the  provision  which  rendered  them  indepen- 
dent of  the  ruling  powers,  this  delicacy  became  needless. 
But,  nevertheless,  a candid  judge  will  always  bear  in  mind 
that  austerity  is  no  necessary  attribute  of  justice,  which  is 
always  more  efficient  in  its  operation  when  tempered  with 
mercy.  The  unsalutary  harshness  of  our  penal  code  has 
become  notorious.  True,  it  is  not  acted  up  to  ; and  this  is 
only  another  modification  of  the  evil,  since  it  tempts  almost 
every  culprit  to  anticipate  his  own  escape.  On  the  Conti- 
nent it  is  different.  There  the  punishment  which  the  law 
provides  is  certainly  inflicted  ; and  the  consequence  is,  that 
in  France  there  is  not  above  one  capital  conviction  to  any 
twenty  in  England. 

The  late  Lord  Clonmell’s  * heart  was  nearly  broken  by 
vexations  connected  with  his  public  functions.  He  had 
been  in  the  habit  of  holding  parties  to  excessive  bail  in  libel 
cases  on  his  own  fiat,  which  method  of  proceeding  was  at 
length  regularly  challenged  and  brought  forward  ; and  the 
matter  being  discussed  with  asperity  in  Parliament,  his  lord- 
ship  was,  to  his  great  mortification,  restrained  from  pursuing 
such  a course  for  the  future. 

He  had  in  the  Court  of  King’s  Bench  used  rough  language 
towards  Mr.  Hackett,  a gentleman  of  the  bar,  the  members 
of  which  profession  considered  themselves  as  all  assailed 
in  the  person  of  a brother  barrister.  A general  meeting 

* His  lordship’s  only  son,  married  to  a daughter  of  the  Marquess  of 
Salisbury,  is  now  a total  absentee,  and  exhibits  another  lamentable 
proof  that  the  children  even  of  men  who  rose  to  wealth  and  title  by  the 
iavours  of  the  Irish  people  feel  disgusted,  and  renounce  for  ever  that 
country  to  which  they  are  indebted  for  their  bread  and  their  elevation  ! 

(D  311) 


R 


242  Barrington’s  recollections. 

was,  therefore,  called  by  the  father  of  the  bar,  a severe 
condemnation  of  his  lordship’s  conduct  voted,  with  only 
one  dissentient  voice,  and  an  unprecedented  resolution 
entered  into,  that  “ until  his  lordship  publicly  apologised 
no  barrister  would  either  take  a brief,  appear  in  the  King’s 
Bench,  or  sign  any  pleadings  for  that  court.” 

This  experiment  was  actually  tried.  The  judges  sat,  but 
no  counsel  appeared,  no  cause  was  prepared,  the  attorneys 
all  vanished,  and  their  lordships  had  the  court  to  themselves. 
There  was  no  alternative  ; and  next  day  Lord  Clonmell  pub- 
lished a very  ample  apology  by  advertisement  in  the  news- 
papers, and  with  excellent  address  made  it  appear  as  if 
written  on  the  evening  of  the  offence,  and,  therefore,  volun- 
tary. 

This  nobleman  had  built  a beautiful  house  near  Dublin, 
and  walled  in  a deer-park  to  operate  medicinally,  by 
inducing  him  to  use  more  riding  exercise  than  he  otherwise 
would  take.  Mr.  Magee,  printer  of  the  Dublin  Evening 
Post , who  was  what  they  call  a little  cracked,  but  very  acute, 
one  of  the  men  whom  his  lordship  had  held  to  excessive 
bail,  had  never  forgiven  it,  and  purchased  a plot  of  ground 
under  my  lord’s  windows,  which  he  called  “ Fiat  Hill.” 
There  he  entertained  the  populace  of  Dublin  once  a week  with 
various  droll  exhibitions  and  sports — such,  for  instance,  as 
asses  dressed  up  with  wigs  and  scarlet  robes,  dancing  dogs 
in  gowns  and  wigs  as  barristers,  soaped  pigs,  etc.  These 
assemblies,  although  productive  of  the  greatest  annoyance 
to  his  lordship,  were  not  sufficiently  riotous  to  be  termed  a 
public  nuisance,  being  solely  confined  to  Magee’s  own  field, 
which  his  lordship  had  unfortunately  omitted  to  purchase 
when  he  built  his  house. 

The  earl,  however,  expected  at  length  to  be  clear  of  his 
tormentor’s  feats,  at  least  for  a while,  as  Magee  was  found 
guilty  on  a charge  of  libel,  and  Lord  Clonmell  would  have 
no  qualms  of  conscience  in  giving  justice  full  scope  by 


THE  LAW  OF  LIBEL.  243 

keeping  him  under  the  eye  of  the  marshal,  and  consequently 
an  absentee  from  “ Fiat  Hill  ” for  a good  space  of  time. 

Magee  was  brought  up  for  judgment,  and  pleaded  himself 
in  mitigation  that  he  was  ignorant  of  the  publication,  not 
having  been  in  Dublin  when  the  libel  appeared  ; which  fact, 
he  added,  Lord  Clonmell  well  knew.  He  had  been  indeed 
entertaining  the  citizens  under  the  earl’s  windows,  and  saw 
his  lordship  peeping  out  from  the  side  of  one  of  them  the 
whole  of  that  day  ; and  the  next  morning  he  had  overtaken 
his  lordship  riding  into  town.  “ And  by  the  same  token,” 
continued  Magee,  “ your  lordship  was  riding  cheek  by  jowl 
with  your  own  brother,  Matthias  Scott,  the  tallow-chandler,* 
from  Waterford,  and  audibly  discussing  the  price  of  fat  at 
the  very  moment  I passed  you.” 

There  was  no  standing  this,  a general  laugh  was  inevitable ; 
and  his  lordship,  with  that  address  for  which  he  was  so 
remarkable,  affecting  to  commune  a moment  with  his 
brother  judges,  said,  “ it  was  obvious,  from  the  poor  man’s 
manner,  that  he  was  not  just  then  in  a state  to  receive 
definitive  judgment ; that  the  paroxysm  should  be  permitted 
to  subside  before  any  sentence  could  be  properly  pro- 
nounced. For  the  present,  therefore,  he  should  only  be 
given  into  the  care  of  the  marshal,  till  it  was  ascertained  how 
far  the  state  of  his  intellect  should  regulate  the  court  in 
pronouncing  its  judgment.”  The  marshal  saw  the  crisis, 
and  hurried  away  Magee  before  he  had  further  opportunity 
of  incensing  the  Chief  Justice. 

Theophilus  Swift,  who,  though  an  Irishman,  practised  at 
the  English  bar,  gave  rise  to  one  of  the  most  curious  libel 
cases  that  ever  occurred  in  Ireland,  and  which  involved  a 
point  of  very  great  interest  and  importance. 

Theophilus  had  two  sons.  In  point  of  figure,  temper, 

* Lord  Clonmell  and  Matthias  Scott  vied  with  each  other  which  had 
the  largest  and  most  hanging  pair  of  cheeks — vulgarly  called  jowls. 
His  lordship's  chin  was  a treble  one,  whilst  Matthias's  was  but  doubled, 
but  then  it  was  broader  and  hung  deeper  than  his  brother's. 


244  Barrington’s  recollections 

disposition  and  propensities,  no  two  brothers  in  the  whole 
kingdom  were  so  dissimilar.  Dean  Swift,  the  eldest,  was 
tall,  thin,  and  gentlemanly,  but  withal  an  unqualified 
reformer  and  revolutionist ; the  second,  Edmond,  was  broad, 
squat,  rough,  and  as  fanatical  an  ultra-royalist  as  the  king’s 
dominions  afforded.  Both  were  clever  men  in  their  way. 

The  father  was  a freethinker  in  every  respect — fond  of 
his  sons,  although  materially  different  from  either,  but 
agreeing  with  the  younger  in  being  a professed  and  extrava- 
gant loyalist.  He  was  bald-headed,  pale,  slender,  and  active, 
with  gray  eyes,  and  a considerable  squint ; an  excellent 
classic  scholar,  and  versed  likewise  in  modern  literature  and 
belles  lettres.  In  short,  Theophilus  Swift  laid  claim  to  the 
title  of  a sincere,  kind-hearted  man  ; but  was  at  the  same 
time  the  most  visionary  of  created  beings.  He  saw  every- 
thing whimsically,  many  things  erroneously,  and  nothing  like 
another  person.  Eternally  in  motion,  either  talking,  writing, 
fighting,  or  whatever  occupation  came  uppermost,  he  never 
remained  idle  one  second  whilst  awake,  and  I really  believe 
was  busily  employed  even  in  his  slumbers. 

His  sons,  of  course,  adopted  entirely  different  pursuits  ; 
and  though  affectionate  brothers,  agreed  in  nothing  save  a 
love  for  each  other  and  attachment  to  their  father.  They 
were  both  writers,  and  good  ones  ; both  speakers,  and 
bad  ones. 

Military  etiquette  was  formerly  very  conspicious  on  some 
occasions.  I well  recollect  when  a man  bearing  the  king’s 
commission  was  considered  as  bound  to  fight  anybody  and 
everybody  that  gave  him  the  invitation.  When  the  Duke  of 
York  was  pleased  to  exchange  shots  with  Colonel  Lennox, 
afterwards  Duke  of  Richmond,  it  was  considered  by  our 
friend  Theophilus  as  a personal  offence  to  every  gentlemen 
in  England,  civil  or  military  ; and  he  held  that  every  man 
who  loved  the  reigning  family  should  challenge  Colonel 
Lennox,  until  somebody  turned  up  who  was  good  marks- 


THE  LAW  OF  LIBEL.  245 

man  enough  to  penetrate  the  Colonel,  and  thus  punish  his 
presumption . 

Following  up  his  speculative  notions,  Mr.  Swift  actually 
challenged  Colonel  Lennox  for  having  had  the  arrogance  to 
fire  at  the  king’s  son.  The  Colonel  had  never  seen  or  even 
heard  of  this  antagonist ; but  learning  that  he  was  a barrister 
and  a gentleman,  he  considered  that,  as  a military  man,  he 
was  bound  to  fight  him  as  long  as  he  thought  proper.  The 
result,  therefore,  was  a meeting  ; and  Colonel  Lennox  shot 
my  friend  Theophilus  clean  through  the  carcass,  so  that,  as 
Sir  Callaghan  O’Brallaghan  says,  “ he  made  his  body  shine 
through  the  sun  !”  Swift,  according  to  all  precedents  on 
such  occasions,  first  staggered,  then  fell,  was  carried  home, 
and  given  over,  made  his  will,  and  bequeathed  the  Duke  of 
York  a gold  snuff-box  ! However,  he  recovered  so  com- 
pletely, that  when  the  Duke  of  Richmond  went  to  Ireland 
as  Lord  Lieutenant,  I,  to  my  surprise,  saw  Swift  at  his 
Grace’s  first  levee,  most  anxious  for  the  introduction.  His 
turn  came  ; and  without  ceremony  he  said  to  the  duke,  by 
way  of  a pun,  that  “ the  last  time  he  had  the  honour  of 
waiting  on  his  grace  as  Colonel  Lennox,  he  received  better 
entertainment — for  that  his  grace  had  given  him  a ball  ! ” 

“ True,”  said  the  duke  smiling  ; “ and  now  that  I am 
Lord  Lieutenant,  the  least  I can  do  is  to  give  you  a brace  of 
them  ! ” and  in  due  time  he  sent  Swift  two  special  invita- 
tions to  the  balls,  to  make  these  terms  consistent  with  his 
Excellency’s  compliments. 

Swift,  as  will  hence  be  inferred,  was  a romantic  per- 
sonage. In  fact,  he  shewed  the  most  decisive  determina- 
tion not  to  die  in  obscurity,  by  whatever  means  his 
celebrity  might  be  acquired. 

A savage,  justly  termed  the  monster , had  during  Swift’s 
career  at  the  bar  practised  the  most  horrid  and  mysterious 
crime  we  have  yet  heard  of — namely,  that  of  stabbing 
women  indiscriminately  in  the  street,  deliberately  and  with- 


246 


Barrington’s  recollections. 


out  cause.  He  was  at  length  taken  and  ordered  for  trial  ; 
but  so  odious  and  detestable  was  his  crime  that  not  a gentle- 
man of  the  bar  would  act  as  his  advocate.  This  was  enough 
to  induce  Swift  to  accept  the  office.  He  argued  truly, 
that  every  man  must  be  presumed  innocent  till  by 
legal  proof  he  appears  to  be  guilty,  and  that  there  was  no 
reason  why  the  monster  should  be  excepted  from  the  general 
rule,  or  that  actual  guilt  should  be  presumed  on  the  charge 
against  him  more  than  any  other  charge  against  any  other 
person  ; that  prejudice  was  a prima  facie  injustice,  and  that 
the  crime  of  stabbing  a lady  with  a weapon  which  was  only 
calculated  to  wound  could  not  be  greater  than  that  of 
stabbing  her  to  the  heart,  and  destroying  her  on  the  instant ; 
that  if  the  charge  had  been  cutting  the  lady’s  throat,  he 
would  have  had  his  choice  of  advocates.  He  spoke  and 
published  his  defence  of  the  monster,  who,  however,  was 
found  guilty,  and  not  half  punished  for  his  atrocity. 

Theophilus  had  a competent  private  fortune  ; but  as  such 
men  as  he  must  somehow  be  always  dabbling  in  what  is 
called  in  Ireland  “ a bit  of  a lawsuit,”  a large  percentage  of 
his  rents  never  failed  to  get  into  the  pockets  of  the  attorneys 
and  counsellors  ; and  after  he  had  recovered  from  the  Duke 
of  Richmond’s  perforation,  and  the  monster  had  been 
incarcerated,  he  determined  to  change  his  site,  settle  in  his 
native  country,  and  place  his  second  son  in  the  University  of 
Dublin. 

Suffice  it  to  say,  that  he  soon  commenced  a fracas  with 
all  the  fellows  of  the  university,  on  account  of  their  “ not 
doing  justice  somehow,”  as  he  said,  “ to  the  cleverest  lad  in 
Ireland  ! ” and  according  to  his  usual  habit,  he  determined 
at  once  to  punish  several  of  the  offenders  by  penmanship, 
and  regenerate  the  great  university  of  Ireland  by  a powerful, 
pointed,  personal,  and  undisguised  libel  against  its  fellows. 

Theophilus  was  not  without  some  plausible  grounds  to 
work  upon  ; but  he  never  considered  that  a printed  libel  did 


THE  LAW  OF  LIBEL. 


247 


not  admit  of  any  legal  justification.  He  at  once  put  half  a 
dozen  of  the  fellows  hors  de  societe , by  proclaiming  them 
to  be  perjurers,  profligates,  imposters,  etc.  ; and  printed, 
published,  and  circulated  this  his  eulogium  with  all  the 
activity  and  zeal  which  belonged  to  his  nature,  working  hard 
to  give  it  a greater  circulation  than  almost  any  libel  published 
in  Ireland,  and  that  is  saying  a great  deal  ! but  the  main 
tenor  of  his  charge  was  a most  serious  imputation  and  a very 
home  one. 

By  the  statutes  of  the  Irish  university,  strict  celibacy  is 
required  ; and  Mr.  swift  stated  “ that  the  fellows  of  that 
university,  being  also  clergymen,  had  sworn  on  the  Holy 
Evangelists  that  they  would  strictly  obey  and  keep  sacred 
these  statutes  of  the  university  in  manner,  form,  letter,  and 
spirit,  as  enjoined  by  their  charter  from  the  Virgin  Queen. 
But  that  notwithstanding  such  their  solemn  oath,  several  of 
these  fellows  and  clergymen,  flying  in  the  face  of  the  Holy 
Evangelists  and  of  Queen  Elizabeth,  and  forgetful  of 
morality,  religion,  common  decency,  and  good  example,  had 
actually  taken  to  themselves  each  one  woman,  at  least,  who 
went  by  the  name  of  Miss  Such-a-one , but  who,  in  fact,  had 
in  many  instances  undergone,  or  was  supposed  to  have 
undergone,  the  ceremony  and  consummation  of  marriage 
with  such  and  such  a perjured  fellow  and  parson  of  Dublin 
University  ; and  that  those  who  had  not  so  married  had  done 
worse  ! and  that  thereby  they  all  had  so  perjured  them- 
selves, and  held  out  so  vicious  a precedent  to  youth,  that 
he  was  obliged  to  take  away  his  son,  for  fear  of  con- 
tamination, etc.” 

It  is  easy  to  conceive  that  this  publication  from  the 
pen  of  a very  gentlemanly,  well-educated  barrister,  who  had 
defended  the  monster  at  the  bar  and  the  Duke  of  York  in 
Hyde  Park,  and  shewed  himself  ready  and  willing  to  write 
or  fight  with  any  man  or  body  of  men  in  Ireland,  naturally 
made  no  small  bustle  and  fuss  amongst  a portion  of  the 


248 


Barrington’s  recollections. 


university  men.  Those  who  had  kept  out  of  the  scrape 
were  not  reported  to  be  in  any  state  of  deep  mourning  on 
the  subject,  as  their  piety  was  the  more  conspicous  ; and  it 
could  not  hurt  the  feelings  of  any  of  them  to  reflect  that 
he  might  possibly  get  a step  in  his  promotion,  on  account 
of  the  defection  of  those  seniors  whose  hearts  might  be 
broken  or  removal  made  necessary  by  the  never-ending 
perseverance  of  this  tremendous  barrister,  who  had  chris- 
tened his  son  Dean  Swift,  that  he  might  appear  a relative 
of  that  famous  churchman,  the  patron  and  idol  of  the  Irish 
people. 

The  gentlemen  of  the  long  robe  were,  of  course,  delighted 
with  the  occurrence  ; they  had  not  for  a long  time  met  with 
so  full  and  fair  an  opportunity  of  expending  every  sentence 
of  their  wit,  eloquence,  law,  and  logic,  as  in  taking  part 
in  this  celebrated  controversy.  I was  greatly  rejoiced  at 
finding  on  my  table  a retainer  against  the  fellows  and  par- 
sons of  Trinity  College,  whom  I had  always  considered  as 
a narrow-minded  and  untalented  body  of  men,  getting  from 
£1,000  to  £1,500  a year  each  for  teaching  several  hun- 
dred students  how  to  remain  ignorant  of  most  of  those 
acquirements  that  a well-educated  gentleman  ought  to  be 
master  of ; it  is  true,  the  students  had  a fair  chance  of 
becoming  good  Latin  scholars,  of  gaining  a little  Greek  and 
Hebrew,  and  of  understanding  several  books  of  Euclid,  with 
three  or  four  chapters  of  Locke  On  the  Human  Understand- 
ing, and  a sixpenny  treatise  on  logic  written  by  a very  good 
divine,  one  of  the  body,  to  prove  clearly  that  sophistry  is 
superior  to  reason.*  This  being  my  opinion  of  them,  I felt 
no  qualms  of  conscience  in  undertaking  the  defence  of 

* Nothing  can  so  completely  stamp  the  character  of  the  University  of 
Dublin  as  their  suppression  of  the  only  school  of  eloquence  in  Ireland, 

“ The  Historical  Society/'  a school  from  which  arose  some  of  the  most 
distinguished,  able,  and  estimable  characters  that  ever  appeared  in  the 
forum,  or  in  the  Parliament  of  Ireland  : this  step  was  what  the  blunder- 
ing Irish  would  call  “ advancing  backwards." 


THE  LAW  OF  LIBEL. 


249 


Theophilus  Swift,  Esq.,  though  most  undoubtedly  a libeller. 
It  is  only  necessary  to  say  that  Lord  Clonmell,  who  had 
been,  I believe,  a sizar  himself  in  that  university,  and  in 
truth,  all  the  judges,  and  with  good  reason,  felt  indignant  at 
Theophilus  Swift’s  so  violently  assailing  and  disgracing,  in 
the  face  of  the  empire,  the  only  university  in  Ireland,  thus 
attacking  the  clergy,  though  he  defended  a monster. 

The  trial  at  length  came  on,  and  there  were  decidedly 
more  parsons  present  than,  I believe,  ever  appeared  in  any 
court  of  justice  of  the  same  dimensions.  The  court  set  out 
full  gallop  against  us  ; nevertheless,  we  worked  on — twice 
twelve  judges  could  not  have  stopped  us  ! I examined  the 
most  learned  man  of  the  whole  university,  Dr.  Barret,  a little, 
greasy,  shabby,  croaking,  round-faced  vice-provost ; he 
knew  of  nothing  on  earth,  save  books  and  guineas — never 
went  out,  held  but  little  intercourse  with  men,  and  none 
at  all  with  women.  I worked  at  him  unsuccessfully  for 
more  than  an  hour  ; not  one  decisive  sentence  could 
I get  him  to  pronounce  ; at  length  he  grew  quite  tired  of 
me,  and  I thought  to  conciliate  him  by  telling  him  that 
his  father  had  christened  me.  “ Indeed  ! ” exclaimed  he  ; 
“ Oh  ! I did  not  know  you  were  a Christian  ! ” At  this 
unexpected  repartee  the  laugh  was  so  strong  against  me 
that  I found  myself  muzzled.  My  colleagues  worked  as 
hard  as  I ; but  a seventy  horse-power  could  not  have  moved 
the  court.  It  was,  however,  universally  admitted  that  there 
was  but  one  little  point  against  us  out  of  a hundred  which 
the  other  side  had  urged  ; that  point,  too,  had  only  three 
letters  in  it,  yet  it  upset  all  our  arguments — that  talismanic 
word  “ law  ” was  more  powerful  than  two  speeches  of  five 
hours  each  ; and  by  the  unanimous  concurrence  of  the  court 
and  jury,  Theophilus  Swift  was  found  guilty  of  writing, 
publishing,  and  undoubtedly  proving  that  certain  parsons, 
Fellows  of  Dublin  University,  had  been  living  conjugally 
with  certain  persons  of  an  entirely  different  sex  ; and  in 


250 


Barrington’s  recollections. 


consequence  he  was  sentenced  to  twelve  months’  imprison- 
ment in  his  majesty’s  gaol  of  Newgate,  where  he  took  up 
his  residence  with  nearly  two  hundred  and  forty  felons  and 
handy  pickpockets. 

My  poor  visionary  friend  was  in  a sad  state  of  depression  ; 
but  Heaven  had  a banquet  in  store  for  him  which  more  than 
counterbalanced  all  his  discomfitures — an  incident  that  I 
really  think  even  the  oracle  of  Delphi  never  would  have 
thought  of  predicting. 

The  Rev.  Dr.  Burrows  was  of  all  the  most  inveterate 
enemy  and  active  prosecutor  of  my  friend  Theophilus.  He 
was  one  of  those  who,  in  despite  of  God  and  Queen  Eliza- 
beth, had  fallen  in  love,  and  uniting  his  fortunes  and  person 
with  the  object  of  it,  thereby  got  within  the  circle  of 
Swift’s  anti-moralists.  This  reverend  person  determined 
to  make  the  public  hate  Theophilus,  if  possible,  as  much 
as  he  did  himself  ; and  forgetting  in  his  zeal  the  doctrine 
of  libel,  and  the  precedent  which  he  had  himself  just  helped 
to  establish,  set  about  to  slay  the  slayer,  and  write  a quietus 
for  Theophilus  Swift,  as  he  supposed,  during  the  rest  of  his 
days  ! Thus  hugging  himself  in  all  the  luxury  of  complete 
revenge  on  a fallen  foe,  Dr.  Burrows  produced  a libel  at 
least  as  unjustifiable  against  the  prisoner  as  the  prisoner  had 
promulgated  against  him  ; and  having  printed,  published, 
and  circulated  the  same,  his  Reverence  and  Madam  con- 
ceived they  had  executed  full  justice  on  the  enemy  of 
marriage  and  the  clergy.  But  alas  ! they  reckoned  without 
their  host.  No  sooner  had  I received  a copy  of  this  redoubt- 
able pamphlet  than  I hastened  to  my  friend  Theophilus, 
whom,  from  a state  of  despondency  and  unhappiness, 
I had  the  pleasure,  in  half  an  hour,  of  seeing  at  least  as 
happy  and  more  pleased  than  any  king  in  Europe.  It 
is  unnecessary  to  say  more  than  that  I recommended  an 
immediate  prosecution  of  the  Rev.  Dr.  Burrows  for  a false, 
gross,  and  malicious  libel  against  Theophilus  Swift,  Esq. 


THE  LAW  OF  LIBEL. 


*5* 


Never  was  any  prosecution  better  founded  or  more  clearly 
and  effectually  supported,  and  it  took  complete  effect.  The 
reverend  prosecutor,  now  culprit  in  his  turn,  was  sentenced 
to  one-half  of  Swift’s  term  of  imprisonment,  and  sent  off 
to  the  same  gaol. 

The  learned  fellows  were  astounded,  the  university  so  far 
disgraced  ; and  Theophilus  Swift  immediately  published 
both  trials,  with  observations,  notes  critical  and  historical, 
etc. 

But,  alas  ! the  mortification  of  the  reverend  fellow  did  not 
end  here.  On  arriving  at  Newgate,  as  the  governor  informed 
me,  the  doctor  desired  a room  as  high  up  as  could  be  had, 
that  he  might  not  be  disturbed  whilst  remaining  in  that 
mansion.  The  governor  informed  him,  with  great  regret, 
that  he  had  not  even  a pigeon-hole  in  the  gaol  unoccupied 
at  the  time,  there  being  two  hundred  and  forty  prisoners, 
chiefly  pickpockets,  many  of  whom  were  waiting  to  be  trans- 
ported, and  that  till  these  were  got  rid  of  he  had  no  private 
room  that  would  answer  his  reverence  ; but  there  was  a very 
neat  and  good  chamber  in  which  were  only  two  beds — one 
occupied  by  a respectable  and  polite  gentleman  ; and  if  the 
doctor  could  manage  in  this  way  meanwhile,  he  might 
depend  on  a preference  the  moment  there  should  be  a 
vacancy.  Necessity  has  no  law,  and  the  doctor,  forced  to 
acquiesce,  desired  to  be  shewn  to  the  chamber.  On  enter- 
ing, the  gentleman  and  he  exchanged  bows,  but  in  a moment 
both  started  involuntarily  at  sight  of  each  other.  On  one 
was  to  be  seen  the  suppressed  smile  of  mental  triumph,  and 
on  the  other  the  grin  of  mortification.  But  Swift,  naturally 
the  pink  of  politeness,  gave  no  reason  for  an  increase  of  the 
doctor’s  chagrin.  As  the  sunbeams  put  out  a fire,  so  did  a 
sense  of  his  folly  flash  so  strong  upon  the  doctor’s  reason 
that  it  extinguished  the  blaze  of  his  anger,  and  the  governor 
having  left  them,  in  a short  time  an  eclair cissement  took  place 
between  these  two  fellow-lodgers  in  a room  fourteen  feet  by 


252 


BARRINGTON’S  RECOLLECTIONS. 


twelve  ! I afterwards  learned  that  they  jogged  on  very  well 
together  till  the  expiration  of  their  sentences,  and  I never 
heard  of  any  libel  published  by  either  the  doctor  or  Swift 
afterwards. 


PULPIT,  BAR,  AND  PARLIAMENTARY  ELOQUENCE.  253 


CHAPTER  XXXII. 

PULPIT,  BAR,  AND  PARLIAMENTARY  ELOQUENCE. 

I have  heard  many  parsons  attempt  eloquence,  but  very 
few  of  them,  in  my  idea,  succeeded.  The  present  Arch- 
bishop of  Dublin  worked  hard  for  the  prize,  and  a good 
number  of  the  Fellows  of  Dublin  College  tried  their  tongues 
to  little  purpose — in  truth,  the  preaching  of  one  minister 
rendered  me  extremely  fastidious  respecting  elequence  from 
the  pulpit. 

This  individual  was  Dean  Kirwan,  now  no  more,  who 
pronounced  the  most  impressive  orations  I ever  heard  from 
the  members  of  any  profession  at  any  era.  It  is  true,  he 
spoke  for  effect , and,  therefore,  directed  his  flow  of  eloquence 
according  to  its  apparent  influence.  I have  listened  to  this 
man  actually  with  astonishment ! He  was  a gentleman  by 
birth,  had  been  educated  as  a Roman  Catholic  priest,  and 
officiated  some  time  in  Ireland  in  that  capacity,  but  after- 
wards conformed  to  the  Protestant  Church,  and  was  received 
ad  eundem . His  extraordinary  powers  soon  brought  him 
into  notice,  and  he  was  promoted  by  Lord  Westmoreland 
to  a living,  afterwards  became  a dean,  and  would  most 
probably  have  been  a bishop  ; but  he  had  an  intractable 
turn  of  mind,  entirely  repugnant  to  the  usual  means  of 
acquiring  high  preferment.  It  was  much  to  be  lamented 
that  the  independence  of  principle  and  action  which  he 
certainly  possessed  was  not  accompanied  by  any  reputation 
for  philanthropic  qualities.  His  justly  high  opinion  of 
himself  seemed  unjustly  to  overwhelm  every  other  con- 
sideration. 

Dr.  Kirwan’s  figure,  and  particularly  his  countenance, 
were  not  prepossessing  ; there  was  an  air  of  discontent  in  his 


254  BARRINGTON’S  RECOLLECTIONS. 

looks,  and  a sharpness  in  his  features,  which,  in  the  aggre- 
gate, amounted  to  something  not  distant  from  repulsion. 
His  manner  of  preaching  was  of  the  French  school  ; he  was 
vehement  for  a while,  and  then  becoming,  or  affecting  to 
become,  exhausted,  he  held  his  handkerchief  to  his  face  ; a 
dead  silence  ensued — he  had  skill  to  perceive  the  precise 
moment  to  recommence — another  blaze  of  declamation  burst 
upon  the  congregation,  and  another  fit  of  exhaustion  was 
succeeded  by  another  pause.  The  men  began  to  wonder  at 
his  eloquence,  the  women  grew  nervous  at  his  denuncia- 
tions. His  tact  rivalled  his  talent ; and  at  the  conclusion 
of  one  of  his  finest  sentences,  a “ celestial  exhaustion,”  as 
I heard  a lady  call  it,  not  unfrequently  terminated  his  dis- 
course, in  general  abruptly.  If  the  subject  was  charity  every 
purse  was  laid  largely  under  contribution.  In  the  Church  of 
St.  Peter’s,  where  he  preached  an  annual  charity  sermon,  the 
usual  collection,  which  had  been  under  £ 200 , was  raised 
by  the  dean  to  £1,100.  I knew  a gentleman  myself  who 
threw  both  his  purse  and  watch  into  the  plate  ! 

Yet  the  oratory  of  this  celebrated  preacher  would  have 
answered  in  no  other  profession  than  his  own,  and  served  to 
complete  my  idea  of  the  true  distinction  between  pulpit, 
bar,  and  parliamentary  eloquence.  Kirwan  in  the  pulpit, 
Curran  at  the  bar,  and  Sheridan  in  the  senate,  were  the 
three  most  effective  orators  I ever  recollect  in  their  respec- 
tive departments. 

Kirwan ’s  talents  seemed  to  me  to  be  limited  entirely  to 
elocution.  I had  much  intercourse  with  him  at  the  house 
of  Mr.  Hely,  of  Tooke’s  Court.  Whilst  residing  in  Dublin  I 
met  him  at  a variety  of  places  ; and  my  overwrought  expec- 
tations, in  fact,  were  a good  deal  disappointed.  His  style 
of  address  had  nothing  engaging  in  it,  nothing  either  dig- 
nified or  graceful.  In  his  conversation  there  was  neither 
sameness  nor  variety — ignorance  nor  information  ; and  yet, 
somehow  or  other,  he  avoided  insipidity.  His  amour  propre 


P™  PIT,  BAR,  AND  PARLIAMENTARY  ELOQUENCE.  255 

was  the  most  prominent  of  his  superficial  qualities  ; and  a 
bold,  manly  independence  of  mind  and  feeling  the  most 
obvious  of  his  deeper  ones.  I believe  he  was  a good  man, 
if  he  could  not  be  termed  a very  amiable  one,  and  learned, 
although  niggardly  in  communicating  what  he  knew. 

I have  remarked  thus  at  large  upon  Dean  Kirwan, 
because  he  was  by  far  the  most  eloquent  and  effective 
pulpit  orator  I ever  heard,  and  because  I never  met  any 
man  whose  character  I felt  more  at  a loss  accurately  to 
pronounce  upon.  It  has  been  said  that  his  sermons  were 
adroitly  extracted  from  passages  in  the  celebrated  discourses 
of  Saurin  the  Huguenot,  who  preached  at  the  Hague,  grand- 
father to  the  late  attorney-general  of  Ireland.  It  may  be  so, 
and  in  that  case  all  I can  say  is,  that  Kirwan  was  a most 
judicious  selector,  and  that  I doubt  if  the  eloquent  writer 
made  a hundredth  part  of  the  impression  of  his  eloquent 
plagiarist. 

I should  myself  be  the  plagiarist  of  a hundred  writers,  if  I 
attempted  to  descant  upon  the  parliamentary  eloquence  of 
Sheridan.  It  only  seems  necessary  to  refer  to  his  speech  on 
Mr.  Hastings'  trial  ; at  least,  that  is  sufficient  to  decide  me 
as  to  his  immense  superiority  over  all  his  rivals  in  splendid 
declamation.  I had  an  opportunity  of  knowing  that  Mr. 
Sheiidan  was  offered  £1,000  for  that  speech  by  a bookseller 
the  day  after  it  was  spoken,  provided  he  would  write  it  out 
correctly  from  the  notes  taken,  before  the  interest  had 
subsided  ; and  yet,  although  he  certainly  had  occasion 
for  money  at  the  time,  and  assented  to  the  proposal,  he  did 
not  take  the  trouble  of  writing  a line  of  it ! The  publisher 
was,  of  course,  displeased,  and  insisted  on  his  performing 
his  promise  ; upon  which  Sheridan  laughingly  replied  in 
the  vein  of  Falstaff — “ No,  Hal  ! were  I at  the  strappado, 
I would  do  nothing  by  compulsion  ! ” He  did  it  at  length — 
but  too  late  ! and,  as  I heard,  was,  reasonably  enough,  not 
paid.  Most  great  men  have  their  individual  points  of 


256 


Barrington’s  recollections. 


superiority,  and  I am  sure  that  Sheridan  could  not  have 
preached,  nor  Kirwan  have  pleaded  ; Curran  could  have 
done  both,  Grattan  neither  ; but  in  language  calculated  to 
rouse  a nation.  Grattan,  whilst  young,  far  exceeded  either  of 
them. 

I have  often  met  Sheridan,  but  never  knew  him  intimately. 
He  was  my  senior  and  my  superior.  Whilst  he  was  in  high 
repute,  I was  at  laborious  duties  ; whilst  he  was  eclipsing 
everybody  in  fame  in  one  country,  I was  labouring  hard  to 
gain  any  in  another.  He  professed  Whiggism  ; I did  not 
understand  it,  and  I have  met  very  few  patriots  who  appear 
to  have  acted  even  on  their  own  definition  thereof. 


QUEEN  CAROLINE. 


257 


CHAPTER  XXXIII. 

QUEEN  CAROLINE. 

I have  often  mused  on  the  unfortunate  history  and  fate  of 
the  late  Queen  Caroline.  It  is  not  for  me  to  discuss  the 
merits  or  demerits  of  her  case,  or  to  give  any  opinion  on  the 
conduct  of  the  ruling  powers  in  the  business.  I shall  only 
observe,  that  though  it  was  not  possible  to  foresee  such 
events  as  subsequently  took  place,  I had,  from  the  time  of 
my  being  presented  to  that  princess  by  Lord  Stowell,  felt  an 
unaccountable  presentiment  that  her  destiny  would  not  be 
a happy  one. 

Upon  the  close  of  the  “ delicate  investigation,”  a drawing- 
room of  the  most  brilliant  description  was  held  at  St.  James’s, 
to  witness  the  Princess’s  reception  by  Her  Majesty,  Queen 
Charlotte.  I doubt  if  a more  numerous  and  sparkling 
assemblage  had  ever  been  collected  in  that  ancient  palace  ; 
curiosity  had  no  small  share  in  drawing  it  together. 

The  sun  was  that  day  in  one  of  his  more  glaring  humours, 
he  shone  with  unusual  ardour  into  the  windows  of  the 
antique  ball-room — seeming  as  if  he  wished  at  the  same 
moment  to  gild  and  melt  down  that  mass  of  beauty  and  of 
diamonds,  which  was  exposed  to  all  his  fervour.  The  crowd 
was  immense,  the  heat  insufferable  ; and  the  effects  resulting 
therefrom  liberally  displayed  themselves,  though  in  different 
tinted  streams,  upon  the  faces  of  the  natural  and  aided 
beauties. 

I was  necessitated  to  attend  in  my  official  dress  ; the 
frizzled  peruke,  loaded  with  powder  and  pomatum,  covering 
at  least  half  the  body  of  the  sufferer,  was  wedged  in  amongst 
the  gaudy  nobles.  The  dress  of  every  person  who  was  so 
fortunate  as  to  come  in  contact  with  the  wigs,  like  the 

(D-  311) 


s 


258 


Barrington’s  recollections. 


cameleon,  instantly  imbibed  the  colour  of  the  thing  it  came 
in  collision  with  ; and  after  a short  intimacy,  many  a full 
dress  black  received  a large  portion  of  my  silvery  hue,  and 
many  a splendid  manteau  participated  in  the  materials  which 
render  powder  adhesive. 

Of  all  the  distressed  beings  in  that  heated  assembly,  I was 
most  amused  by  Sir  Vicary  Gibbs,  then  attorney-general. 
Hard-featured  and  impatient,  his  wig  awry,  his  solids  yield- 
ing out  all  their  essence  ; he  appeared  as  if  he  had  just 
arisen,  though  not  like  Venus,  from  the  sea.  Every  muscle 
of  his  angular  features  seemed  busily  employed  in  forming 
hieroglyphic  imprecations  ! Though  amused,  I never  pitied 
any  person  more,  except  myself.  Wedged  far  too  tight  to 
permit  even  a heaving  sigh  at  my  own  imprisonment,  I 
could  only  be  consoled  by  a perspective  view  of  the  gracious 
Charlotte,  who  stood  stoutly  before  the  throne  like  the 
stump  of  a baronial  castle  to  which  age  gives  greater  dignity. 
I had,  however,  in  due  rotation,  the  honour  of  being  pre- 
sented, and  of  kissing  the  back  of  her  majesty’s  hand. 

I am,  of  course,  profoundly  ignorant  of  her  majesty’s 
manner  in  her  family,  but  certainly  her  public  receptions 
were  the  most  gracious  in  the  world  ; there  could  not  be  a 
more  engaging,  kind,  and  condescending  address  than  that 
of  the  Queen  of  England.  It  is  surprising  how  different  a 
Queen  appears  in  a drawing-room  and  in  a newspaper. 

At  length  the  number  of  presentations  had  diminished 
the  pressure,  and  a general  stir  in  the  crowd  announced 
something  uncommon  about  to  take  place.  It  was  the 
approach  of  the  Princess  of  Wales. 

Whoever  considered  the  painfully  delicate  situation  in 
which  this  lady  was  then  placed  could  not  help  feeling  a 
sympathy  for  her  apparent  sufferings.  Her  father,  the  Duke 
of  Brunswick,  had  not  long  before  expired  of  his  wounds, 
received  at  Jena  ; and  after  her  own  late  trials  it  was,  I 
thought,  most  inauspicious  that  deep  mourning  should  be 


QUEEN  CAROLINE, 


*59 


her  attire  on  her  reception — as  if  announcing  at  once  the 
ill-fate  of  herself  and  of  her  parent  ; her  dress  was  decked 
with  a multiplicity  of  black  bugles.  She  entered  the 
drawing-room  leaning  on  the  arm  of  the  Duke  of  Cumber- 
land, and  seemed  to  require  the  support*  To  her  it  must, 
in  truth,  have  been  a most  awful  moment.  The  subject  of 
the  investigation;  the  loss  of  her  natural  protector,  and  the 
doubts  she  must  have  felt  as  to  the  precise  nature  of  her 
reception  by  the  Queen,  altogether  made  a deep  impression 
on  everyone  present.  She  tottered  to  the  throne  ; the  spec- 
tacle grew  interesting  in  the  highest  degree.  I was  not 
close,  but  a low  buzz  ran  round  the  room  that  she  had  been 
received  most  kindly,  and  a few  moments  sufficed  to  shew 
that  this  was  her  own  impression. 

After  she  had  passed  the  ordeal,  a circle  was  formed  for 
her  beyond  the  throne.  I wished  for  an  introduction,  and 
Lord  Stowell,  then  Sir  William  Scott,  did  me  that  honour.  I 
had  felt  in  common  with  everybody  for  the  depression  of 
spirits  with  which  the  Princess  had  approached  her  Majesty. 
I,  for  my  part,  considered  her  in  consequence  as  full  of 
sensibility  at  her  own  situation  ; but  so  far  as  her  subsequent 
manner  shewed,  I was  totally  deceived.  The  trial  was  at 
an  end,  the  Queen  had  been  kind,  and  a paroxysm  of  spirits 
seemed  to  succeed  and  mark  a strange  contrast  to  the  manner 
of  her  entry.  I thought  it  was  too  sudden  and  too  decisive  : 
she  spoke  much,  and  loud,  and  rather  bold  ; it  seemed  to 
me  as  if  all  recollection  of  what  had  passed  was  rapidly 
vanishing.  So  far  it  pleased  me  to  see  returning  happiness  ; 
but  still  the  kind  of  thing  made  no  favourable  impression  on 
my  mind.  Her  circle  was  crowded  ; the  presentations 
numerous  ; but,  on  the  whole,  she  lost  ground  in  my  esti- 
mation . 

This  incident  proved  to  me  the  palpable  distinction 
between  feeling  and  sensibility — words  which  people  mis- 
construe and  mingle  without  discrimination.  I then  com- 


260  Barrington’s  recollections. 

pared  the  two  ladies.  The  bearing  of  Queen  Charlotte 
certainly  was  not  that  of  a heroine  in  romance  ; but  she  was 
the  best  bred  and  most  graceful  lady  of  her  age  and  figure  I 
ever  saw  ; so  kind  and  conciliating,  that  one  could  scarcely 
believe  her  capable  of  anything  but  benevolence.  She 
appeared  plain,  old,  and  of  dark  complexion  ; but  she  was 
unaffected,  and  commanded  that  respect  which  private 
virtues  ever  will  obtain  for  public  character.  I liked  her 
vastly  better  than  her  daughter-in-law — indeed,  I never 
could  reconcile  myself  in  any  instance  to  extra-natural  com- 
plexions. 


ANECDOTES  OF  IRISH  JUDGES. 


26l 


CHAPTER  XXXIV. 

ANECDOTES  OF  IRISH  JUDGES. 

Before  and  for  some  time  after  I was  called  to  the  bar,  the 
bench  was  in  some  instances  very  curiously  manned  as  to 
judges.  The  uniform  custom  had  previously  been  to  send 
over  these  dignitaries  from  England,  partly  with  a view  to 
protect  the  property  of  absentees,  and  partly  from  political 
considerations  ; and  the  individuals  thus  sent  appeared  as  if 
generally  selected  because  they  were  good  for  nothing  else. 
In  truth,  till  the  judges  of  Ireland  were  made  independent 
of  the  Crown  in  1784,  no  English  barrister  who  could  earn 
his  bread  at  home  would  accept  a precarious  office  in  a 
strange  country,  and  on  a paltry  salary.  Such  Irishmen  also 
as  were  in  those  days  constituted  puisne  judges  were  of  the 
inferior  class  of  practising  barristers,  on  account  of  tne  last- 
mentioned  circumstance. 

A vulgar  idea,  most  ridiculous  in  its  nature,  formerly  pre- 
vailed in  Ireland,  of  the  infallibility  of  judges.  It  existed  at 
an  early  period  of  my  observations,  and  went  so  far  even  as 
to  conceive  that  an  ignorant  barrister,  whose  opinion  nobody 
probably  would  ask,  or,  if  obtained,  would  act  upon,  should 
he  by  interest,  subserviency,  or  other  fortuitous  circum- 
stances, be  placed  on  the  judicial  bench,  immediately 
changed  his  character — all  the  books  in  his  library  pouring 
their  information  into  his  head  ! The  great  seal  and  the 
king’s  patent  were  held  to  saturate  his  brain  in  half  an  hour 
with  all  that  wisdom  and  learning  which  he  had  in  vain 
been  trying  to  get  even  a peep  at  during  the  former  portion 
of  his  life,  and  the  mere  dicta  of  the  metamorphosed  barrister 
were  set  down  by  reporters  as  the  infallible,  but  theretofore 


262 


Barrington’s  recollections. 


inexplicable,  law  of  the  land,  and  as  such  handed  round  to 
other  judges  under  the  appellation  of  precedents,  entitled  to 
all  possible  weight  in  judicial  decisions. 

This  old  doctrine  of  the  infallibility  of  dicta  and  pre- 
cedents, which  presented,  in  fact,  an  accumulation  of 
enigmas  and  contradictions,  was  at  one  time  carried  to  great 
lengths,  I believe  partly  from  a plausible  system  of  making 
legal  decisions  uniform , whether  right  or  wrong,  and  perhaps 
partly  from  the  inability  of  the  adapters  to  make  any  better 
sort  of  precedent  themselves.  A complaisance  so  ridiculous 
has  of  late  been  much  relaxed. 

To  shew  the  gradual  and  great  improvement  of  the  Irish 
bench,  and  the  rapid  advance  in  the  administration  of  justice 
in  the  law  courts  of  that  country,  I will  subjoin  a few  illus- 
trative anecdotes. 

Baron  Monckton,  of  the  Exchequer,  an  importation  from 
England,  was  said  to  understand  black  letter  and  red  wine 
better  than  any  who  had  preceded  him  in  that  situation.  At 
all  events,  being  often  vino  deditus>  he  on  those  occasions 
described  the  segment  of  a circle  in  making  his  way  to  the 
seat  of  justice  ! This  learned  baron  was  longer  on  the  bench 
than  any  other  in  my  recollection.  I have  also  in  later  days 
enjoyed  the  intimacy  of  a very  clever,  well-informed  man,  and 
a sound  lawyer,  who,  like  the  baron,  rather  indecorously 
indulged  in  the  juice  of  the  grape,  and  whom  Lord  Clare  had 
made  a judge  for  some  services  rendered  to  himself.  The 
newspapers  eulogised  this  gentleman  very  much  for  his  sin- 
gular tender-heartedness , saying,  “ So  great  was  the  humanity 
of  Judge  Boyd,  that  when  he  was  passing  sentence  of  death 
upon  any  unfortunate  criminal,  it  was  observable  that  his 
lordship  seldom  failed  to  have  ‘ a drop  in  his  eye  ! ’ ” 

I remember  a barrister  being  raised  to  the  Irish  bench,  who 
had  been  previously  well  known  by  the  ingenious  surname 
of  Counsellor  Necessity , because  “ necessitas  non  legem 
habet  ” ; and  certainly  to  do  him  no  more  than  justice,  he 


ANECDOTES  OF  IRISH  JUDGES.  263 

consistently  merited  the  cognomen  after  his  elevation  as  well 
as  before. 

Old  Judge  Henn,  a very  excellent  private  character,  was 
dreadfully  puzzled  on  circuit,  about  1789,  by  two  pertin- 
acious young  barristers,  arguing  a civil  bill  upon  some 
trifling  subject,  repeatedly  haranguing  the  court,  and  each 
most  positively  laying  down  the  “ law  of  the  case  ” in  direct 
opposition  to  his  adversary’s  statement  thereupon.  The 
judge  listened  with  great  attention  until  both  were  tired 
of  stating  the  law  and  contradicting  each  other,  when 
they  unanimously  requested  his  lordship  to  decide  the 
point. 

“ How,  gentlemen,”  said  Judge  Henn,  “ can  I settle  it 
between  you  ? You,  sir,  positively  say  the  law  is  one  wayy 
and  you,”  turning  to  the  opposite  party,  “ as  unequivocally 
affirm  that  it  is  the  other  way.  I wish  to  God,  Billy  Harris,” 
to  his  registrar  who  sat  underneath,  “ I knew  what  the  law 
really  was  ! ” 

“ My  lord,”  replied  Billy  Harris  most  sententiously,  rising 
at  the  same  moment,  and  casting  a despairing  glance  towards 
the  bench,  “ if  I possessed  that  knowledge,  I protest  to  God 
I would  tell  your  lordship  with  a great  deal  of  pleasure  ! ” 

“ Then  we’ll  save  the  point , Billy  Harris,”  exclaimed  the 
judge. 

A more  modern  justice  of  the  Irish  King’s  Bench,  in 
giving  his  dictum  on  a certain  will  case,  absolutely  said,  “ he 
thought  it  very  clear  that  the  testator  intended  to  keep  a 
life-interest  in  the  estate  to  himself The  bar  did  not  laugh 
outright  ; but  Curran  soon  rendered  that  consequence  in- 
evitable. “ Very  true,  my  lord,”  said  he,  “ very  true  ! 
testators  generally  do  secure  life-interests  to  themselves. 
But  in  this  case  I rather  think  your  lordship  takes  the  will 
for  the  deed.” 

The  chief  justices  w~ere,  however,  generally  accomplished 
men,  and  of  first-rate  talent  as  lawyers  ; and  the  chan- 


264 


Barrington’s  recollections. 


cellors,  with  few  exceptions,  both  able  and  dignified — 
qualities  which  Lord  Lifford  was  the  last  to  unite  in  an 
eminent  degree. 

On  the  subject  of  judges,  I cannot  omit  a few  ancedotes 
of  a very  different  description  from  the  foregoing,  which 
occurred  in  my  own  time. 

Baron  Power  was  considered  an  excellent  lawyer,  and  was 
altogether  one  of  the  most  curious  characters  I have  met  in 
the  profession.  He  was  a morose,  fat  fellow,  affecting  to  be 
genteel  ; he  was  very  learned,  very  rich,  and  very  ostenta- 
tious. Unfortunately  for  himself,  Baron  Power  held  the 
office  of  usher  of  the  Court  of  Chancery,  which  was  princi- 
pally remunerated  by  fees  on  moneys  lodged  in  that  court. 
Lord  Clare,  then  chancellor,  hated  and  teased  him,  because 
Power  was  arrogant  himself,  and  never  would  succumb 
to  the  arrogance  of  Fitzgibbon.  The  chancellor  had  a cer- 
tain control  over  the  usher,  at  least  he  had  a sort  of  license  for 
abusing  him  by  innuendo  as  an  officer  of  the  court,  and 
most  unremittingly  did  he  excerise  that  license.  Baron 
Power  had  a large  private  fortune,  and  always  acted  in  office 
strictly  according  to  the  custom  of  his  predecessors  ; but  was 
attacked  so  virulently  and  pertinaciously  by  Lord  Clare,  that 
having  no  redress,  it  made  a deep  impression,  first  on  his 
pride,  then  on  his  mind,  and  at  length  on  his  intellect. 
Lord  Clare  followed  up  his  blow,  as  was  common  with  him  ; 
he  made  incessant  attacks  on  the  baron,  who  chose  rather  to 
break  than  bend  ; and  who,  unable  longer  to  stand  this 
persecution,  determined  on  a prank  of  all  others  the  most 
agreeable  to  his  adversary  ! The  baron  walked  quietly  down 
early  one  fine  morning  to  the  south  wall,  which  runs  into  the 
sea  about  two  miles  from  Dublin  ; there  he  very  deliberately 
filled  his  coat-pockets  with  pebbles  ; and  having  accom- 
plished that  business,  as  deliberately  walked  into  the  ocean, 
which,  however,  did  not  retain  him  long,  for  his  body  was 
thrown  ashore  with  great  contempt  by  the  tide.  His 


ANECDOTES  OF  IRISH  JUDGES. 


2(>5 

estates  devolved  upon  his  nephews,  two  of  the  most  respect- 
able men  of  their  country  ; and  the  lord  chancellor  enjoyed 
a double  gratification  of  destroying  a baron  and  recom- 
mending a more  submissive  officer  in  his  place. 

Had  the  matter  ended  here  it  might  not  have  been  so 
very  remarkable  ; but  the  precedent  was  too  respectable  and 
inviting  not  to  be  followed  by  persons  who  had  any  particular 
reasons  for  desiring  strangulation,  as  a judge  drowning 
himself  gave  the  thing  a sort  of  dignified  legal  eclat  ! It  so 
happened  that  a Mr.  Morgal,  then  an  attorney  residing  in 
Dublin,  of  large  dimensions,  and  with  shin  bones  curved  like 
the  segment  of  a rainbow,  had  for  good  and  sufficient 
reasons  long  appeared  rather  dissatisfied  with  himself  and 
other  people.  But  as  attorneys  were  considered  much  more 
likely  to  induce  their  neighbours  to  cut  their  throats  than  to 
execute  that  office  upon  themselves,  nobody  ever  suspected 
Morgal  of  any  intention  to  shorten  his  days  in  a voluntary 
manner. 

However,  it  appeared  that  the  signal  success  of  Baron 
Power  had  excited  in  the  attorney  a great  ambition  to  get 
rid  of  his  sensibilities  by  a similiar  exploit.  In  compliance 
with  such  his  impression,  he  adopted  the  very  same  prelimi- 
naries as  the  baron  had  done — walked  off  by  the  very  same 
road,  to  the  very  same  spot  ; and  having  had  the  advantage 
of  knowing,  from  the  coroner’s  inquest,  that  the  baron  had 
put  pebbles  into  his  pocket  with  good  effect,  adopted  like- 
wise this  judicial  precedent,  and  committed  himself  in  due 
form  into  the  hands  of  father  Neptune,  who  took  equal  care 
of  him  as  he  had  done  of  the  baron  ; and  after  having 
suffocated  him  so  completely  as  to  defy  the  exertions  of  the 
Humane  Society,  sent  his  body  floating  ashore,  to  the  full 
as  bloated  and  buoyant  as  Baron  Power’s  had  been.  This 
gentleman  was  father  to  a lady  of  rank  still  living,  and  whose 
first  husband  met  a much  more  disagreeable  finale , being 
shot  against  his  will  bv  his  brother  candidate,  Mr.  Crosby,  at 


266 


BARRINGTON  S RECOLLECTIONS. 


the  election  of  Kerry.  She  has  herself,  however,  been 
singularly  fortunate  throughout  life. 

As  a sequel  to  this  little  anecdote  of  Crosby  Morgal,  it  is 
worth  observing,  that  though  I do  not  recollect  any  of  the 
attorneys  immediately  following  his  example,  four  or  five  of 
his  clients  shortly  after  started  from  this  world  of  their 
own  accord,  to  try,  as  people  then  said,  if  they  could  any 
way  overtake  Crosby,  who  had  left  them  no  conveniences 
for  staying  long  behind  him.* 

Mr.  William  Johnson,  the  present  Judge  Johnson,  was 
the  only  one  of  my  brother  barristers  whose  smiles  were 
not  agreeable  to  me  when  we  went  circuits  together.  I 
liked  his  frowns  extremely,  because  they  were'  generally 
very  sincere , extremely  picturesque,  and  never  niggardly 
bestowed.  But  as  my  own  smiles  had  the  trouble  of 
mounting  up  from  my  heart,  whilst  he  had  an  assortment 
ready  prepared  to  take  a short  cut  to  his  muscles  whenever 
policy  required,  I found  that  in  this  particular  we  were  not 
equally  matched. 

When  my  friend  William  was  angry,  I was  sure  he  was 
in  earnest,  and  that  it  would  not  be  over  too  soon  ; I there- 

* The  Irish  attorneys  had,  I believe,  then  pretty  much  the  same  re- 
putation and  popularity  enjoyed  by  their  tribe  throughout  the  United 
Kingdom.  They  have  now  wisely  changed  their  designation  into  that  of 
solicitors.  I recollect  one  anecdote  which  will,  I think,  apply  pretty 
well  to  the  major  part  of  that  celebrated  profession.  Some  years  ago, 
a suitor  in  the  Court  of  Exchequer  complained  in  person  to  the  Chief 
Baron,  that  he  was  quite  ruinated , and  could  go  on  no  further  ! 
“ Then,”  said  Lord  Yelverton,  “ you  had  better  leave  the  matter  to  be 
decided  by  reference.”  “ To  be  sure,  I will,  my  lord,”  said  the  plaintiff  ; 
“ I've  been  now  at  law  thirteen  years,  and  can't  get  on  at  all  ! I'm 
willing,  please  your  lordship,  to  leave  it  all  either  to  one  honest  man  or 
two  attorneys , whichever  your  lordship  pleases.”  " You  had  better  toss 
up  for  that,”  said  Lord  Yelverton,  laughing.  Two  attorneys  were,  how- 
ever appointed,  and  in  less  than  a year  reported  that  “ they  could  not 
agree  ” ; both  parties  then  declared  they  would  leave  the  matter  to 
a very  honest  farmer,  a neighbour  of  theirs.  They  did  so,  and  in  about 
a week  came  hand-in-hand  to  the  court,  thanked  his  lordship,  and  told 
him  that  their  neighbour  had  settled  the  whole  affair  square  and  straight 
to  their  entire  satisfaction.  Lord  Yelverton  used  to  tell  the  anecdote 
with  great  glee. 


ANECDOTES  OF  IRISH  JUDGES. 


267 


fore  considered  it  as  a proper,  steady  sort  of  concern.  But 
his  paroxysms  of  good  humour  were  occasionally  so  awkward 
that  although  they  were  but  transitory,  I have  frequently 
begged  of  him  to  cheer  up  our  society  by  getting  into 
a little  passion  ; nay,  have  sometimes  taken  the  liberty 
of  putting  him  into  one  myself,  to  make  him  more 
agreeable. 

Be  it  remembered,  however,  that  this  was  before  Mr. 
William  Johnson  became  a judge,  and  I cannot  say  what 
effect  an  inoculation  by  Lord  Norbury’s  temperament  may 
have  had  upon  his  constitution.  But  I have  frequently  told 
him  that  either  physic  or  wrangling  was  indispensably 
necessary  to  keep  his  bile  from  stagnation  ; and  I hope 
my  old  chum  has  not  suffered  himself  to  sink  into  any 
morbid  state  of  mental  apathy. 

I always  promised  to  give  Willaim  Johnson  a page  or  two 
in  my  Historic  Memoirs  of  Ireland — some  of  his  friends  have 
suggested  that  he  would  be  more  appropriately  introduced 
into  my  Fragments . I will  adopt  their  suggestion  without 
abandoning  my  own  purpose,  and  with  the  best  wishes  for 
his  celebrity,  bequeath  him  in  both  works  to  posterity,  which 
I shall  leave  to  form  its  own  estimate  of  his  merits. 

Though  divers  curious  and  memorable  anecdotes  occur  to 
me  of  my  said  friend,  Judge  William  Johnson,  I do  not  con- 
ceive that  many  of  them  can  be  very  interesting  out  of  court, 
particularly  after  he  becomes  defunct,  which  Nature  has 
certainly  set  down  as  a “motion  of  course.”  One  or  two, 
however,  which  connect  themselves  with  my  egotistical 
feelings  shall  not  be  omitted.  At  the  same  time,  I assure 
him  that  I by  no  means  approve  of  our  late  brother  Daly’s 
method  of  reasoning,  who,  on  his  speaking  rather  indecor- 
ously of  Mr.  William  Johnson  in  his  absence,  at  the  Bar- 
mess  on  circuit,  was  tartly  and  very  properly  asked  by  the 
present  Mr.  Justice  Jebb,  “ Why  he  would  say  such  things 
of  Mr.  Johnson  behind  his  back  ?”  “ Because,”  replied  Mr. 


268  BARRINGTON’S  RECOLLECTIONS. 

Daly,  “ I would  not  hurt  his  feelings  by  saying  them  to  his 
face .” 

I often  reflect  on  a most  singular  circumstance  which 
occurred  between  Johnson  and  me,  as  proving  the  incal- 
culability  of  what  is  called  in  the  world  “ fortune,”  which 
in  my  mind  cannot  have  a better  definition  than  “ The 
state  lottery  of  Nature.”  My  friend  is  the  son  of  a respect- 
able apothecary  in  Fishamble  Street,  Dublin,  and  was 
called  to  the  bar  some  few  years  before  me  ; but  the  world 
being  blind  as  to  our  respective  merits,  I got  immediately 
into  considerable  business,  and  he,  though  a much  wiser 
man  and  a much  cleverer  lawyer,  got  none  at  all.  Pros- 
perity, in  short,  deluged  me  as  it  were,  when  suddenly  I 
fell  ill  of  a violent  fever  on  circuit,  which  nearly  ended  my 
career.  Under  these  circumstances  Johnson  acted  by  me 
in  a most  kindly  and  friendly  manner,  and  insisted  on 
remaining  with  me,  to  the  neglect  of  his  own  concerns. 
This  I would  not  allow  ; but  I never  forgot  the  proffered 
kindness,  and  determined,  if  ever  it  came  within  my  power, 
to  repay  his  civility. 

The  next  year  I was  restored  to  health,  and  my  career 
of  good  fortune  started  afresh,  whilst  poor  Johnson  had  still 
no  better  luck.  He  remained  assiduous,  friendly,  and  good- 
natured  to  me  ; but  at  the  same  time  he  drooped,  and  told 
me  at  Wexford,  in  a state  of  despondency,  that  he  was 
determined  to  quit  the  bar  and  go  into  orders.  I en- 
deavoured to  dissuade  him  from  this,  because  I had  a 
presentiment  that  he  would  eventually  succeed  ; and  I 
fairly  owned  to  him  that  I doubted  much  if  he  were  mild 
enough  for  a parson. 

In  about  two  years  after  I was  appointed  King’s  Counsel. 
My  stuff  gown  had  been  so  far  the  most  fortunate  one  of 
our  profession,  and  Johnson’s  the  least  so.  I advised  him 
to  get  a new  gown  ; and  shortly  after,  in  the  whim  of  the 
moment,  fancying  there  might  be  some  seeds  of  good  luck 


ANECDOTES  OF  IRISH  JUDGES. 


269 


sticking  to  the  folds  of  my  old  stuff  after  I had  quitted  it 
for  a silken  robe,  I despatched  a humorous  note  to  Johnson, 
together  with  the  stuff  gown,  as  a mark  of  my  gratitude  for 
his  attentions,  begging  he  would  accept  it  from  a friend 
and  well-wisher,  and  try  if  wearing  it  would  be  of  equal 
service  to  him  as  to  me. 

He  received  my  jocose  gift  very  pleasantly,  and  in  good 
part,  and,  laughing  at  my  conceit,  put  on  the  gown.  But 
whatever  may  become  of  prepossessions,  certain  it  is  that 
from  that  period  Johnson  prospered,  his  business  gradually 
grew  larger,  and  in  proportion  as  it  increased,  he  became 
what  they  call  in  Ireland  high  enough  to  everybody  but  the 
attorneys  ; and  thus  my  friend  William  Johnson  trudged 
on  through  thick  and  thin  to  the  Parliament  House,  into 
which  Lord  Castlereagh  stuffed  him,  as  he  said  himself, 
“ to  put  an  end  to  it.”  However,  he  kept  a clear  look-out, 
and  now  sits  in  the  place  his  elder  brother  Judge  Robert 
had  occupied,  who  was  rather  singularly  z/wjudged  for  having 
Cobbettised  Lord  Redesdale,  as  will  hereafter  appear. 

Old  Mr.  Johnson,  the  father  of  these  two  gentlemen, 
when  upwards  of  sixty,  procured  a diploma  as  physician, 
to  make  the  family  genteeler.  He  was  a decent,  orderly, 
good  kind  of  apothecary,  and  a very  respectable,  though 
somewhat  ostentatious,  doctor  ; and,  above  all,  a good 
orthodox,  hard-praying  Protestant.  I was  much  amused 
one  day  after  dinner  at  Mr.  Hobson’s,  at  Bushy,  near 
Dublin,  where  the  doctor,  Curran,  myself,  and  many  others 
were  in  company.  The  doctor  delighted  in  telling  of  the 
success  of  his  sons,  Bob,  Bill,  Gam,  and  Tom  the  attorney, 
as  he  termed  them  ; he  was  fond  of  attributing  Bob’s 
advancement  rather  to  the  goodness  of  Providence  than  that 
of  the  Marquess  of  Downshire  ; and  observed,  most  parent- 
ally, that  he  had  brought  up  his  boys,  from  their  very  child- 
hood, with  “ the  fear  of  God  always  before  their  eyes.” 
“ Ah  ! 'twas  a fortunate  circumstance,  indeed,  doctor,” 


270 


Barrington’s  recollections. 


said  Curran,  “ very  fortunate,  indeed,  that  you  frightened 
them  so  early.” 

One  of  the  most  honourable  and  humane  judges  I ever 
saw  upon  the  Irish  bench  was  the  late  Justice  Kelly,  of  the 
Common  Pleas.  He  acquired  professionally  a very  large 
fortune,  and  died  at  a great  age,  beloved  and  regretted  by 
every  being  who  had  known  him.  It  was  he  who  tried  the 

cause  of  Lady  M , and  never  did  I see  him  chuckle 

with  pleasure  and  a proper  sense  of  gallantry  more  than  he 
did  at  the  verdict  in  that  case. 

He  was  no  common  man.  Numerous  anecdotes  have  been 
told  of  him — many  singular  ones  I myself  can  bear  witness  to, 
but  none  which  did  not  do  credit  to  some  just  or  gentle- 
manly feeling.  He  had  practised  several  years  in  the  West 
Indies,  and,  studying  at  the  Temple  on  his  return,  was  in 
due  season  admitted  to  the  Irish  bar,  to  the  head  of  which 
he  rose  with  universal  approbation. 

At  the  time  the  Irish  insisted  on  a declaration  of  their 
independence,  Judge  Kelly  had  attained  the  high  dignity  of 
Prime  Serjeant,  a law  office  not  known  in  England  ; in 
Ireland  the  Prime  Serjeant  had  rank  and  precedence  of 
the  attorney  and  solicitor  general.  On  the  government  of 
Ireland  first  opposing  that  declaration  of  independence, 
Kelly,  from  his  place  in  Parliament,  declared  “ he  should 
consider  it  rather  a disgrace  than  an  honour  to  wear  the 
Prime  Serjeant’s  gown  under  a ministry  which  resisted  the 
rights  of  his  country  ! ” and  immediately  sent  in  his 
resignation,  and  retired  to  the  rank  of  a private  barrister. 

Among  such  a people,  and  in  consequence  of  such 
conduct,  it  is  useless  to  attempt  describing  his  popularity. 
His  business  rose  to  an  extent  beyond  his  powers.  Nobody 
was  satisfied  who  had  not  Tom  Kelly  for  his  advocate  in  the 
courts  ; no  suitor  was  content  who  had  not  Tom  Kelly’s 
opinion  as  to  title  ; all  purchasers  of  property  must  have 
Tom  Kelly’s  sanction  for  their  speculations.  In  a word,  he 


ANECDOTES  OF  IRISH  JUDGES,  27 I 

became  both  an  oracie  and  a fortune-teller  ; his  court-bag 
grew  too  heavy  for  his  strength,  but  he  got  through  every 
cause  gallantly  and  cheerfully  ; he  was  always  prepared  ; 
his  perseverance  never  yielded,  his  arguments  seldom  failed, 
his  spirits  never  flagged.  This  enviable  old  man  lived 
splendidly,  yet  saved  a large  fortune.  At  length,  it  was 
found  so  unpopular  to  leave  him  at  the  bar,  that  he  was  first 
appointed  Solicitor-General,  and  then  mounted  on  the 
bench  of  the  Common  Pleas,  where,  having  sat  many  years, 
he  retired  to  his  beautiful  country  residence  near  Stradbally, 
Queen’s  County,  and  lived  as  a country  gentleman  in 
hospitable  magnificence.  He  married  three  of  his  daughters 
well,  pursued  his  field-sports  to  his  death,  and  departed 
this  world  to  the  unanimous  regret  of  all  who  knew  him. 

After  Judge  Kelly  had  assumed  the  bench  the  public 
began  to  find  out  that  his  legal  knowledge  had  been  over- 
rated ; his  opinions  were  over- ruled,  his  advice  thought 
scarce  worth  having,  his  deductions  esteemed  illogical  ; 
in  short,  he  lost  altogether  the  character  of  an  infallible 
lawyer,  but  had  the  happiness  of  thinking  he  had  confirmed 
his  reputation  for  honour,  justice,  and  integrity.  He  used 
to  say  laughingly,  4 4 So  they  find  out  now  that  I am  not  a 
very  staunch  lawyer  ; I am  heartily  glad  they  did  not  find 
it  out  thirty  years  ago  ! ” 

He  loved  the  world,  and  this  was  only  gratitude,  for  the 
world  loved  him  ; and  nobody  ever  yet  enjoyed  his  existence 
with  more  cheerfulness  and  composure.  “ Egad  ! ” he  used 
to  say,  “ this  world  is  wheeling  round  and  round  quite  too 
fast  to  please  me.  For  my  part  I’d  rather  be  a young  shoe- 
boy  than  an  old  judge.”  (Who  would  not  ? says  the 
author.)  He  always  most  candidly  admitted  his  legal  mis- 
takes. I recollect  my  friend  William  Johnson  once  pressing 
him  very  fiercely  to  a decision  in  his  favour,  and  stating  as  an 
argument , in  his  usual  peremptory  tone  to  judges  he  was  not 
afraid  of,  that  there  could  be  no  doubt  on  the  point — pre- 


272 


BARRINGTON  S RECOLLECTIONS. 


cedent  was  imperative  in  the  matter,  as  his  lordship  had 
decided  the  same  points  the  same  way  twice  before. 

“ So,  Mr.  Johnson,”  said  the  judge,  looking  archly, 
shifting  his  seat  somewhat,  and  shrugging  up  his  right 
shoulder,  “ so  ! because  I decided  wrong  twice,  Mr.  Johnson, 
you’d  have  me  do  so  a third  time  ? No,  no,  Mr.  Johnson  ! 
you  must  excuse  me.  I’ll  decide  the  other  way  this  bout.” 
And  so  he  did. 

The  anecdotes  of  his  quaint  humour  are,  in  fact,  innumer- 
able, and  some  of  his  charges  quite  extraordinary.  His 
profile  was  very  like  Edmund  Burke’s  ; he  had  that  sharp 
kind  of  nose  which  gives  a singular  cast  to  the  general 
contour,  but  there  was  always  an  appearance  of  drollery 
lurking  in  his  countenance.  No  man  could  more  justly 
boast  of  carrying  about  him  proofs  of  nationality,  as  few 
ever  had  the  Irish  dialect  stronger.  It  was  in  every  word 
and  every  motion  ! Curran  used  to  say  he  had  the  brogue 
in  his  shoulders . If  Judge  Kelly  conceived  he  had  no 
grounds  to  be  ashamed  of  his  country,  she  had  still  less  to 
be  ashamed  of  him.  He  was  calculated  to  do  credit  to  any 
land. 

I also  had  the  pleasure  of  being  acquainted  with  Mr. 
Arthur  Wolfe  intimately,  afterwards  Baron  Kilwarden  and 
Chief  Justice  of  Ireland.  This  gentleman  had,  previously 
to  his  advancement,  acquired  very  high  eminence  as  an 
equity  lawyer  ; he  was  much  my  senior  at  the  bar. 

Wolfe  had  no  natural  genius,  and  but  scanty  general 
information  ; his  talents  were  originally  too  feeble  to  raise 
him  by  their  unassisted  efforts  into  any  political  importance. 
Though  patronised  by  the  Earl  of  Tyrone,  and  supported  by 
the  Beresford  aristocracy,  his  rise  was  slow  and  gradual,  and 
his  promotion  to  the  office  of  solicitor-general  had  been 
long  predicted,  not  from  his  ability,  but  in  consequence  of 
his  reputation  as  a good-hearted  man  and  a sound  lawyer. 

On  the  elevation  of  Mr.  John  Fitzgibbon  to  the  seals,  Mr. 


ANECDOTES  OF  IRISH  JUDGES. 


273 


Wolfe  succeeded  him  as  attorney-general,  the  parliamentary 
duties  of  which  office  were,  however,  far  beyond  the  reach  of 
his  oratory,  and  altogether  too  important  for  his  proportion 
of  intellect  ; and  hence  he  had  to  encounter  difficulties  which 
he  was  unable  successfully  to  surmount.  The  most  gifted 
members  of  his  own  profession  were,  in  fact,  then  linked 
with  the  first-rate  political  talents  of  the  Irish  nation,  to  bear 
down  those  measures  which  it  had  become  Mr.  Wolfe’s 
imperative  official  duty  to  originate  or  support. 

In  the  singular  character  of  Mr.  Wolfe  there  were  strange 
diversities  of  manner  and  of  disposition.  On  first  acquaint- 
ance he  seldom  failed  to  make  an  unfavourable  impression, 
but  his  arrogance  was  only  apparent,  his  pride  innoxious,  his 
haughtiness  theoretical.  In  society  he  so  whimsically  mixed 
and  mingled  solemn  ostentation  with  playful  frivolity,  that 
the  man  and  the  boy,  the  judge  and  the  jester,  were  generally 
alternate. 

Still  Kilwarden’s  heart  was  right  and  his  judgment  suf- 
ficing. In  feeling  he  was  quick,  in  apprehension  slow. 
The  union  of  these  qualities  engendered  a sort  of  spurious 
sensibility,  which  constantly  led  him  to  apprehend  offence 
where  none  was  ever  intended.  He  had  a constant  dread 
of  being  thought  petulant,  and  excitement  produced  by  this 
dread  became  itself  the  author  of  that  techy  irritation  which 
he  so  much  deprecated.  Thus,  like  certain  humorous  char- 
acters on  the  stage,  he  frequently  worked  himself  into  silly 
anger  by  endeavouring  to  shew  that  he  was  perfectly  good- 
tempered. 

Lord  Kilwarden,  not  perceiving  the  true  distinction 
between  pride  and  dignity,  thought  he  was  supporting  the 
appearance  of  the  one,  when,  in  fact,  he  was  only  practising 
the  formality  of  the  other  ; and  after  a long  intercourse  with 
the  world,  he  every  day  evinced  that  he  knew  every  one’s 
else  character  better  than  his  own.  As  attorney- general, 
during  a most  trying  era,  his  moderation,  justice,  and  dis- 

(D  311) 


T 


274  Barrington’s  recollections. 

cretion  were  not  less  evident  than  was  his  strict  adherence 
to  official  duties,  and  the  peculiarities  of  his  manner  wer 
merged  in  the  excellence  of  his  more  sterling  qualities. 

In  the  celebrated  cause  of  the  King  against  Heavy,  in 
the  King’s  Bench,  Mr.  Curran  and  I were  Heavy’s  counsel, 
and  afterwards  moved  to  set  aside  the  verdict  on  grounds 
which  we  considered  to  form  a most  important  point  upon 
legal  principles. 

Curran  had  concluded  his  speech,  and  I was  stating  what 
I considered  to  be  the  law  of  the  case,  when  Lord  Kilwarden, 
impatient  and  fidgetty,  interrupted  me — “ God  forbid, 
Mr.  Barrington,”  said  he,  “ that  should  be  the  law  ! ” 

“ God  forbid,  my  lord,”  answered  I,  “ that  it  should  not 
be  the  law.” 

“You  are  rough,  sir,”  exclaimed  he. 

“ More  than  one  of  us  have  the  same  infirmity,  my  lord.” 

“ I was  right,  sir,”  said  he. 

“ So  was  I,  my  lord,”  returned  I,  unbendingly. 

He  fidgetted  again,  and  looked  haughty  and  sour.  I 
thought  he  would  break  out,  but  he  only  said,  “ Go  on,  sir  ! 
go  on,  sir  ! ” I proceeded,  and  whilst  I was  speaking  he 
wrote  a note,  which  was  handed  to  me  by  the  officer  ; I kept 
it,  as  affording  a curious  trait  of  human  character.  It  ran 
thus  : 

“ Barrington, 

“ You  are  the  most  impudent  fellow  I ever  met. 
Come  and  dine  with  me  this  day  at  six.  You  will  meet  some 
strangers,  so  I hope  you  will  behave  yourself,  though  I have 
no  reason  to  expect  it ! ” “ K.” 

To  conclude  this  sketch — Lord  Kilwarden  was  in  grain 
one  of  the  best  men  I ever  knew  ; but  to  be  liked,  it  was 
necessary  he  should  be  known  ; and  the  more  intimately 
known,  the  more  apparent  were  his  good  qualities.  He  had 
not  an  error  to  counterbalance  which  some  merit  did  not 
exhibit  itself.  He  had  no  wit,  though  he  thought  he  said 


ANECDOTES  OF  IRISH  JUDGES.  275 

good  things  ; as  a specimen  of  his  punning,  he  used  to  call 
Curran  “ Gooseberry  ” 

The  instability  of  human  affairs  was  lamentably  exem- 
plified in  his  lordship’s  catastrophe  ; his  life  was  prosperous, 
and  deservedly  so  ; his  death  cruel  and  unmerited.  There 
scarcely  exists  in  record  a murder  more  inhuman  or  more 
wanton  than  that  of  the  Chief  Justice. 

In  1803,  on  the  evening  when  the  partial  but  sanguinary 
insurrection  broke  out  in  Dublin,  organised  by  Mr.  Emmet, 
Lord  Kilwarden  had  retired  to  his  country-house  near  the 
metropolis,  and  was  tranquilly  enjoying  the  society  of  his 
family,  when  he  received  an  order  from  Government  to 
repair  to  town  on  particular  business  ; in  fact,  the  police,  the 
secretaries,  and  all  attached  to  the  executive,  had  continued 
incredulous  and  supine,  and  never  believed  the  probability 
of  a rising  until  it  was  at  the  very  point  of  commencing. 

Lord  Kilwarden  immediately  ordered  his  carriage,  and 
attended  only  by  his  nephew,  a clergyman,  and  one  of  his 
daughters,  proceeded  to  Dublin  without  the  least  suspicion 
of  violence  or  interruption.  His  road,  however,  lay  through 
a wide  and  long  street,  wherein  the  rebels  had  first 
assembled  ; and  previously  to  Lord  Kilwarden ’s  arrival  had 
commenced  operations.  Before  his  lordship  could  conceive, 
or  had  time  to  ask  the  cause  of  this  assemblage,  he  was  in 
the  midst  of  their  ranks  ; hemmed  in  on  every  side  by  masses 
of  armed  ruffians,  there  was  no  possibility  of  retreat  ; and 
without  being  conscious  of  a crime,  he  heard  the  yells  of 
murder  and  revenge  on  every  side  around  him,  and  perceived 
that  he  was  lost  beyond  the  power  of  redemption. 

A general  shout  ran  amongst  the  insurgents  of  “ The 
Chief  Justice  ! The  Chief  Justice  ! ” Their  crime  would 
have  been  the  same  in  either  case,  but  it  was  alleged  that  they 
were  mistaken  as  to  the  person,  conceiving  it  to  be  Lord 
Carleton,  who,  as  Justice  of  the  Common  Pleas,  had  some 
years  before  rendered  himself  beyond  description  obnoxious 


276 


Barrington’s  recollections. 


to  the  disaffected  of  Dublin,  in  consequence  of  having  been 
the  judge  who  tried  and  condemned  the  two  Counsellors 
Sheers,  who  were  executed  for  treason,  and  to  whom  that 
nobleman  had  been  testamentary  guardian,  by  the  will  of 
their  father.  The  mob  thought  only  of  him  ; and  Lord 
Kilwarden  fell  a victim  to  their  revenge  against  Lord 
Carleton. 

The  moment  the  cry  went  forth,  the  carriage  was  stopped, 
and  the  door  torn  open.  The  clergyman  and  Miss  Wolfe 
got  out  and  ran  ; the  latter  was  suffered  to  escape  ; but  the 
pikemen  pursued,  and  having  come  up  with  Mr.  Wolfe, 
mangled  and  murdered  in  a horrid  manner  as  fine  and 
inoffensive  a young  gentleman  as  I ever  knew. 

Hundreds  of  the  murderers  now  surrounded  the  carriage, 
ambitious  only  who  should  first  spill  the  blood  of  a chief 
justice  ; a multitude  of  pikemen  at  once  assailed  him,  but 
his  wounds  proved  that  he  had  made  many  efforts  to  evade 
them.  His  hands  were  lacerated  all  over  in  the  act  of 
resistance  ; but  after  a long  interval  of  torture,  near  thirty 
stabs  in  various  parts  of  his  body  incapacitated  him  from 
struggling  further  with  his  destiny.  They  dragged  him  into 
the  street  ; yet,  when  conveyed  into  a house,  he  was  still 
sensible,  and  able  to  speak  a few  words,  but  soon  after 
expired,  to  the  great  regret  of  all  those  who  knew  him  well, 
as  I did,  and  were  able  to  separate  his  frivolity  from  his 
excellent  qualities. 

Certain  events  which  arose  out  of  that  cruel  murder  are 
singular  enough.  Mr.  Emmet,  a young  gentlemen  of  great 
abilities,  but  of  nearly  frantic  enthusiasm,  who  had  been  the 
organ  and  leader  of  that  partial  insurrection,  was  son  to  the 
State  physician  of  Ireland,  Dr.  Emmet.  Some  time  after  the 
unfortunate  event,  he  was  discovered,  arrested,  tried,  and 
executed.  On  his  trial,  Mr.  Plunkett  was  employed  to  act 
for  the  Crown,  with  which  he  had  not  before  been  con- 
nected, but  was  soon  after  appointed  solicitor-general.  The 


ANECDOTES  OF  IRISH  JUDGES. 


277 


circumstances  of  that  trial  were  printed,  and  are  no  novelty  ; 
but  the  result  of  it  was  a paper  which  appeared  in  Cobbett 
against  Lord  Redesdale,  and  which  was  considered  a libel. 
It  was  traced  to  Judge  Robert  Johnson,  of  the  Common 
Pleas,  who  was  in  consequence  pursued  by  the  then 
attorney-general,  Mr.  O’Grady,  as  was  generally  thought  by 
the  bar,  and  as  I still  think,  in  a manner  contrary  to  all 
established  principles  both  of  law  and  justice.  The  three 
law  courts  had  the  case  argued  before  them  ; the  judges 
differed  on  every  point  ; however,  the  result  was  that  Judge 
Johnson,  being  kidnapped,  was  taken  over  to  England,  and 
tried  before  the  King’s  Bench,  at  Westminster,  for  a libel 
undoubtedly  written  in  Ireland,  although  published  by 
Cobbett  in  both  countries.  He  was  found  guilty  ; but,  on 
the  terms  of  his  resigning  office,  judgment  was  never  called 
for.  As,  however,  Judge  Robert  Johnson  was  one  of  those 
members  of  Parliament  who  had  forgotten  their  patriotism 
and  voted  for  a Union,  the  Government  could  not  in  reason 
abandon  him  altogether.  They,  therefore,  gave  him  twelve 
hundred  pounds  a year  for  life  ; and  Robert  Johnson,  Esq., 
has  lived  many  years  not  a bit  the  worse  for  Westminster  ; 
whilst  his  next  brother,  to  whom  I have  already  paid  my 
respects,  was  made  Judge  of  the  Common  Pleas,  and  rules 
in  his  stead.  This  is  the  Mr.  Robert  Johnson  who,  from 
his  having  been  inducted  into  two  offices,  Curran  used  to 
style,  on  alluding  to  him  in  the  House  of  Commons,  “ the 
learned  barrackmaster.”  He  was  a well-read,  entertaining 
man,  extremely  acute,  an  excellent  writer,  and  a trustworthy, 
agreeable  companion. 


278 


BARRINGTON  S RECOLLECTIONS. 


CHAPTER  XXXV. 

THE  FIRE-EATERS. 

It  may  be  objected  that  anecdotes  of  duelling  have  more 
than  their  due  proportion  of  space  in  these  sketches,  and  that 
no  writer  should  publish  feats  of  that  nature,  if  feats  they 
can  be  called,  especially  when  performed  by  persons  holding 
grave  offices,  or  by  public  functionaries.  These  are  very 
plausible,  rational  observations,  and  are  now  anticipated  for 
the  purpose  of  being  answered. 

It  might  be  considered  a sufficient  excuse  that  these 
stories  refer  to  events  long  past  ; that  they  are  amusing,  and 
the  more  so  as  being  matters  of  fact,  neither  romance  nor 
exaggeration,  and  so  various  that  no  two  of  them  are  at  all 
similar.  But  a much  better  reason  can  be  given — namely, 
that  there  is  no  other  species  of  detail  or  anecdote  which  so 
clearly  brings  in  illustration  before  a reader’s  eye  the  char- 
acter, genius,  and  manners  of  a country,  as  that  which 
exemplifies  the  distinguishing  propensities  of  its  population 
for  successive  ages.  Much  knowledge  will  necessarily  be 
gained  by  possessing  such  a series  of  anecdotes,  and  by  then 
going  on  to  trace  the  decline  of  such  propensities  to  the 
progress  of  civilisation  in  that  class  of  society  where  they 
had  been  prevalent. 

As  to  the  objection  founded  on  the  rank  or  profession  of 
the  parties  concerned,  it  is  only  necessary  to  subjoin  the 
following  short  abstract  from  a long  list  of  official  duellists 
who  have  figured  away  in  my  time,  and  some  of  them  before 
my  eyes.  The  number  of  grave  personages  who  appear  to 
have  adopted  the  national  taste,  though  in  most  instances  it 
was  undoubtedly  before  their  elevation  to  the  bench  that 
they  signalised  themselves  in  single  combat,  removes  from 


THE  FIRE-EATERS. 


-79 


me  all  imputation  of  pitching  upon  and  exposing  any  unusal 
frailty  ; and  I think  I may  challenge  any  country  in  Europe 
to  shew  such  an  assemblage  of  gallant  judicial  and  ojficial 
antagonists  at  fire  and  sword  as  is  exhibited  even  in  the 
following  list  : — 

The  Lord  Chancellor  of  Ireland,  Earl  Clare,  fought  the 
Master  of  the  Rolls,  Curran. 

The  Chief  Justice  K.  B.,  Lord  Clonmell,  fought  Lord 
Tyrawley,  a privy  counsellor,  Lord  Llandaff,  and  two  others. 

The  judge  of  the  county  of  Dublin,  Egan,  fought  the 
Master  of  the  Rolls,  Roger  Barrett,  and  three  others. 

The  Chancellor  of  the  Exchequer,  the  Right  Honourable 
Isaac  Corry,  fought  the  Right  Honourable  Henry  Grattan, 
a privy  counsellor,  and  another. 

A baron  of  the  Exchequer,  Baron  Medge,  fought  his 
brother-in-law  and  two  others. 

The  Chief  Justice  C.  P.,  Lord  Norbury,  fought  Fire-eater 
Fitzgerald,  and  two  other  gentlemen,  and  frightened  Napper 
Tandy  and  several  besides  ; one  hit  only. 

The  judge  of  the  Prerogative  Court,  Dr.  Duigenan,  fought 
one  barrister  and  frightened  another  on  the  ground. — N.B. 
The  latter  case  a curious  one. 

The  chief  counsel  to  the  revenue,  Henry  Dean  Grady, 
fought  Counsellor  O’Mahon,  Counsellor  Campbell,  and 
others  ; all  hits. 

The  Master  of  the  Rolls  fought  Lord  Buckinghamshire, 
the  chief  secretary,  etc. 

The  provost  of  the  University  of  Dublin,  the  Right  Hon- 
ourable Hely  Hutchinson,  fought  Mr.  Doyle,  Master  in 
Chancery  (they  went  to  the  plains  of  Minden  to  fight),  and 
some  others. 

The  Chief  Justice,  C.  P.  Patterson,  fought  three  country 
gentlemen,  one  of  them  with  swords,  another  with  guns,  and 
wounded  all  of  them. 

The  Right  Honourable  George  Ogle,  a privy  counsellor, 


280  Barrington’s  recollections. 

fought  Barney  Coyle,  a distiller,  because  he  was  a papist. 
They  fired  eight  shots  and  no  hit  ; but  the  second  broke 
his  own  arm. 

Thomas  Wallace,  K.C.,  fought  Mr.  O’Gorman,  the 
Catholic  secretary. 

Counsellor  O’Connell  fought  the  Orange  chieftain  ; fatal 
to  the  champion  of  Protestant  ascendency. 

The  Collector  of  the  Customs  of  Dublin,  the  Honourable 
Francis  Hutchinson,  fought  the  Right  Honourable  Lord 
Mountmorris. 

The  reader  of  this  dignified  list,  which,  as  I have  said,  is 
only  an  abridgment,*  will  surely  see  no  great  indecorum  in 
an  admiralty  judge  having  now  and  then  exchanged  broad- 
sides, more  especially  as  they  did  not  militate  against  the 
law  of  nations. 

However,  it  must  be  owned  that  there  were  occasionally 
very  peaceable  and  forgiving  instances  amongst  the  bar- 
risters. I saw  a very  brave  king’s  counsel,  Mr.  Curran, 
horse-whipped  most  severely  in  the  public  street  by  a very 
savage  nobleman,  Lord  Clanmorris,  and  another  barrister 
was  said  to  have  had  his  eye  saluted  by  a moist  messenger 
from  a gentleman’s  lips,  Mr.  May’s,  in  the  body  of  the  House 
of  Commons.  Yet  both  these  little  incivilities  were  arranged 
very  amicably  in  a private  manner,  and  without  the  aid  of 
any  deadly  weapon  whatsoever,  I suppose  for  variety’s  sake. 
But  the  people  of  Dublin  used  to  observe  that  a judgment 
came  upon  Counsellor  O’Callaghan  for  having  kept  Mr. 
Curran  quiet  in  the  horse- whipping  affair,  inasmuch  as  his 
own  brains  were  literally  scattered  about  the  ground  by  an 
attorney,  very  soon  after  he  had  turned  pacificator. 

In  my  time  the  number  of  killed  and  wounded  amongst 
the  bar  was  very  considerable.  The  other  learned  profes- 
sions suffered  much  less. 

It  is,  in  fact,  incredible  what  a singular  passion  the  Irish 

* Two  hundred  and  twenty-seven  memorable  and  official  duels  have 
actually  been  fought  during  my  grand  climacteric. 


THE  FIRE-EATERS. 


281 

gentlemen,  though  in  general  excellent  tempered  fellows, 
formerly  had  for  fighting  each  other,  and  immediately 
making  friends  again.  A duel  was  indeed  considered  a 
necessary  piece  of  a young  man’s  education,  but  by  no 
means  a ground  for  future  animosity  with  his  opponent. 

One  of  the  most  humane  men  existing,  an  intimate  friend 
of  mine,  and  at  present  a prominent  public  character,  but 
who,  as  the  expression  then  was,  had  frequently  played  both 
“ hilt  to  hilt  ” and  “ muzzle  to  muzzle,”  was  heard 
endeavouring  to  keep  a little  son  of  his  quiet  who  was 
crying  for  something — “ Come,  now,  do  be  a good  boy  ! 
Come,  now,”  said  my  friend,  “ don’t  cry,  and  I’ll  give  you 
a case  of  nice  little  pistols  to-morrow.  Come,  now,  don’t 
cry,  and  we’ll  shoot  them  all  in  the  morning.”  “ Yes  ! yes  ! 
we’ll  shoot  them  all  in  the  morning  ! ” responded  the  child, 
drying  his  little  eyes  and  delighted  at  the  notion.  I have 
heard  the  late  Sir  Charles  Ormsby,  who  affected  to  be  a wit, 
though  at  best  but  a humourist  and  gourmand , liken  the  story 
of  my  friend  and  his  son  to  a butcher  at  Nenagh,  who  in  like 
manner  wanted  to  keep  his  son  from  crying,  and  effectually 
stopped  his  tears  by  saying,  “ Come,  now  be  a good  boy  ; 
don’t  cry,  and  you  shall  kill  a lamb  to-morrow  ! now,  won’t 
you  be  good  ? ” “ Oh  yes  ! yes,”  said  the  child,  sobbing  ; 

“ father,  is  the  lamb  ready  ? ” 

Within  my  recollection  this  national  propensity  for  fight- 
ing and  slaughtering  was  nearly  universal,  originating  in  the 
spirit  and  habits  of  former  times.  When  men  had  a glowing 
ambition  to  excel  in  all  manner  of  feats  and  exercises,  they 
naturally  conceived  that  manslaughter  in  an  honest  way — 
that  is,  not  knowing  which  would  be  slaughtered — was  the 
most  chivalrous  and  gentlemanly  of  all  their  accomplish- 
ments ; and  this  idea  gave  rise  to  an  assiduous  cultivation 
of  the  arts  of  combat,  and  dictated  the  wisest  laws  for  carry- 
ing them  into  execution  with  regularity  and  honour. 

About  the  year  1777  the  fire-eaters  were  in  great  repute 


Barrington’s  recollections. 


28.3 


in  Ireland.  No  young  fellow  could  finish  his  education  till 
he  had  exchanged  shots  with  some  of  his  acquaintances. 
The  first  twro  questions  always  asked  as  to  a young  man’s 
respectability  and  qualifications,  particularly  when  he  pro- 
posed for  a lady-wife,  were — “ What  family  is  he  of  ? ” 
“ Did  he  ever  blaze  ? ” 

Tipperary  and  Galway  were  the  ablest  schools  of  the 
duelling  science.  Galway  was  most  scientific  at  the 
sword,  Tipperary  most  practical  and  prized  at  the  pistol  ; 
Mayo  not  amiss  at  either  ; Roscommon  and  Sligo  had  many 
professors  and  a high  reputation  in  the  leaden  branch  of 
the  pastime. 

When  I was  at  the  University,  Jemmy  Keogh,  Buck 
English,  Cosey  Harrison,  Crowe  Ryan,  Reddy  Long,  Amby 
Bodkin,  Squire  Falton,  Squire  Blake,  Amby  Fitzgerald,  and 
a few  others,  were  supposed  to  understand  the  points  of 
honour  better  than  any  men  in  Ireland,  and  were  constantly 
referred  to. 

In  the  North,  the  Fallows  and  the  Fentons  were  the 
first  hands  at  it  ; and  most  counties  could  have  then  boasted 
their  regular  point  of  honour  men.  The  present  Chief  Justice 
of  the  Common  Pleas  was  supposed  to  have  understood  the 
thing  as  well  as  any  gentleman  in  Ireland. 

In  truth,  these  oracles  were  in  general  gentlemen  of  good 
connexions  and  most  respectable  families,  otherwise  nobody 
would  fight  or  consult  them. 

There  was  an  association  in  the  year  1782,  a volunteer 
corps,  which  was  called  the  “ Independent  Light  Horse.” 
They  were  not  confined  to  one  district,  and  none  could  be 
admitted  but  the  younger  brothers  of  the  most  respectable 
families.  They  were  all  both  “ hilt  and  muzzle  boys  ” ; 
and  that  no  member  should  set  himself  up  as  greater  than 
another ; every  individual  of  the  corps  was  obliged,  on 
reception,  to  give  his  honour  “ that  he  could  cover  his 
fortune  with  the  crown  of  his  hat.” 


THE  FIRE-EATERS. 


283 


Roscommon  and  Sligo  then  furnished  some  of  the  finest 
young  fellows,  fire-eaters,  I ever  saw  ; their  spirit  and 
decorum  were  equally  admirable,  and  their  honour  and 
liberality  conspicuous  on  all  occasions. 

Every  family  then  had  a case  of  hereditary  pistols,  which 
descended  as  an  heir-loom,  together  with  a long  silver-hilted 
sword,  for  the  use  of  their  posterity.  Our  family  pistols, 
denominated  pelters , were  brass — I believe  my  second 
brother  has  them  still  ; the  barrels  were  very  long  and  point 
blankets.  They  were  included  in  the  armoury  of  our 
ancient  castle  of  Ballynakill  in  the  reign  of  Elizabeth — the 
stocks,  locks,  and  hair  triggers  were,  however,  modern — 
and  had  descended  from  father  to  son  from  that  period  ; 
one  of  them  was  named  “ sweet  lips,”  the  other  “ darling.” 
The  family  rapier  was  called  “ skiver  the  pullet  ” by  my 
grand-uncle,  Captain  Wheeler  Barrington,  who  had  fought 
with  it  repeatedly,  and  run  through  different  parts  of  their 
persons  several  Scots  officers,  who  had  challenged  him  all 
at  once  for  some  national  reflection.  It  was  a very  long, 
narrow-bladed,  straight  cut-and-thrust,  as  sharp  as  a razor, 
with  a silver  hilt,  and  a guard  of  buff  leather  inside  it.  I 
kept  this  rapier  as  a curiosity  for  some  time  ; but  it  was 
stolen  during  my  absence  at  the  Temple. 

I knew  Jemmy  Keogh  extremely  well.  He  was  con- 
sidered in  the  main  a peacemaker,  for  he  did  not  like  to 
see  anybody  fight  but  himself  ; and  it  was  universally 
admitted  that  he  never  killed  any  man  who  did  not  well 
deserve  it.  He  was  a plausible,  although  black-looking 
fellow,  with  remarkably  thick,  long  eyebrows,  closing  with  a 
tuft  over  his  nose.  He  unfortunately  killed  a cripple  in 
the  Phoenix  Park,  which  accident  did  him  great  mischief. 
He  was  land-agent  to  Bourke  of  Glinsk,  to  whom  he  always 
officiated  as  second. 

At  length,  so  many  quarrels  arose  without  sufficiently 
dignified  provocation,  and  so  many  things  were  considered 


284 


Barrington’s  recollections. 


as  quarrels  of  course,  which  were  not  quarrels  at  all,  that  the 
principal  fire-eaters  of  the  South  saw  clearly  disrepute  was 
likely  to  be  thrown  both  on  the  science  and  its  professors, 
and  thought  it  full  time  to  interfere  and  arrange  matters 
upon  a proper,  steady,  rational,  and  moderate  footing,  and 
to  regulate  the  time,  place,  and  other  circumstances  of  duel- 
ling, so  as  to  govern  all  Ireland  on  one  principle — thus 
establishing  a uniform,  national  code  of  the  lex  pugnandi — 
proving,  as  Hugo  Grotius  did,  that  it  was  for  the  benefit 
of  all  belligerents  to  adopt  the  same  code  and  regulations. 

In  furtherance  of  this  object  a branch  society  had  been 
formed  in  Dublin,  termed  the  “ Knights  of  Tara,”  which 
met  once  a month  at  the  theatre,  Capel  Street,  gave  premiums 
for  fencing,  and  proceeded  in  the  most  laudably  systematic 
manner.  The  amount  of  the  admission  money  was  laid 
out  on  silver  cups,  and  given  to  the  best  fencers  as  prizes, 
at  quarterly  exhibitions  of  pupils  and  amateurs. 

Fencing  with  the  small  sword  is  certainly  a most  beautiful 
and  noble  exercise  ; its  acquirement  confers  a fine,  bold, 
manly  carriage,  a dignified  mien,  a firm  step,  and  graceful 
motion.  But,  alas  ! its  practisers  are  now  supplanted  by 
contemptible  groups  of  smirking  quadrillers  with  un- 
weaponed  belts,  stuffed  breasts,  and  strangled  loins — a set 
of  squeaking  dandies,  whose  sex  may  be  readily  mistaken,  or, 
I should  rather  say,  is  of  no  consequence. 

The  theatre  of  the  “ Knights  of  Tara  ” on  these  occasions 
was  always  overflowing.  The  combatants  were  dressed  in 
close  cambric  jackets,  garnished  with  ribbons,  each  wearing 
the  favourite  colour  of  his  fair  one  ; bunches  of  ribbons  also 
dangled  at  their  knees,  and  roses  adorned  their  morocco 
slippers,  which  had  buff  soles  to  prevent  noise  in  their 
lunges.  No  masks  or  visors  were  used  as  in  these  more 
timorous  times  ; on  the  contrary,  every  feature  was  un- 
covered, and  its  inflections  all  visible.  The  ladies  appeared 
in  full  morning  dresses,  each  handing  his  foil  to  her  cham- 


THE  FIRE-EATERS. 


285 


pion  for  the  day,  and  their  presence  animating  the  singular 
exhibition.  From  the  stage-boxes  the  prizes  likewise  were 
handed  to  the  conquerors  by  the  fair  ones,  accompanied 
each  with  a wreath  of  laurel,  and  a smile  then  more  valued 
than  a hundred  victories  ! The  tips  of  the  foils  were 
blackened,  and,  therefore,  instantly  betrayed  the  hits  on 
the  cambric  jacket,  and  proclaimed  without  doubt  the 
successful  combatant.  All  was  decorum,  gallantry,  spirit, 
and  good  temper. 

The  “ Knights  of  Tara  ” also  had  a select  committee  to 
decide  on  all  actual  questions  of  honour  referred  to  them — 
to  reconcile  differences,  if  possible,  if  not  to  adjust  the 
terms  and  continuance  of  single  combat.  Doubtful  points 
were  solved  generally  on  the  peaceable  side,  provided 
women  were  not  insulted  or  defamed  ; but  when  that 
was  the  case,  the  knights  were  obdurate,  and  blood  must 
be  seen.  They  were  constituted  by  ballot,  something  in 
the  manner  of  the  Jockey  Club,  but  without  the  possibility 
of  being  dishonourable,  or  the  opportunity  of  cheating  each 
other. 

This  most  agreeable  and  useful  association  did  not  last 
above  two  or  three  years.  I cannot  tell  why  it  broke  up — 
I rather  think,  however,  the  original  fire-eaters  thought  it 
frivolous,  or  did  not  like  their  own  ascendency  to  be  rivalled. 
It  was  said  that  they  threatened  direct  hostilities  against  the 
knights  ; and  I am  the  more  disposed  to  believe  this, 
because  soon  after  a comprehensive  code  of  the  laws 
and  points  of  honour  was  issued  from  the  Southern  fire- 
eaters,  with  directions  that  it  should  be  strictly  observed 
by  all  gentlemen  throughout  the  kingdom,  and  kept  in  their 
pistol-cases  that  ignorance  might  never  be  pleaded.  This 
code  was  not  circulated  in  print,  but  very  numerous  written 
copies  were  sent  to  the  different  county  clubs,  etc.  My 
father  got  one  for  his  sons,  and  I transcribed  most,  I believe 
not  all,  of  it  into  some  blank  leaves.  These  rules  brought 


286 


BARRINGTONS  RECOLLECTIONS. 


the  whole  business  of  duelling  into  a focus,  and  have  been 
much  acted  upon  down  to  the  present  day.  They  called 
them  in  Galway  “ the  thirty-six  commandments.” 

As  far  as  my  copy  went,  they  appear  to  have  run  as 
follows — 

The  practice  of  duelling  and  points  of  honour  settled  at 
Clonmell  Summer  Assizes,  1777,  by  the  gentlemen  delegates 
of  Tipperary,  Galway,  Mayo,  Sligo,  and  Roscommon,  and 
prescribed  for  general  adoption  throughout  Ireland. 

RULES. 

1.  — The  first  offence  requires  the  first  apology,  though 
the  retort  may  have  been  more  offensive  than  the  insult. 
Example — A.  tells  B.  he  is  impertinent,  etc. ; B.  retorts  that 
he  lies  ; yet  A.  must  make  the  first  apology,  because  he  gave 
the  first  offence,  and  then,  after  one  fire,  B.  may  explain  away 
the  retort  by  subsequent  apology. 

2.  — But  if  the  parties  would  rather  fight  on,  then,  after 
two  shots  each,  but  in  no  case  before,  B.  may  explain  first 
and  A.  apologise  afterwards. 

N.B. — The  above  rules  apply  to  all  cases  of  offences  in 
retort  not  of  a stronger  class  than  the  example. 

3.  — If  a doubt  exist  who  gave  the  first  offence,  the 
decision  rests  with  the  seconds  ; if  they  won't  decide,  or 
can't  agree,  the  matter  must  proceed  to  two  shots,  or  to  a 
hit,  if  the  challenger  require  it. 

4.  — When  the  lie  direct  is  the  first  offence,  the  aggressor 
must  either  beg  pardon  in  express  terms,  exchange  two 
shots  previous  to  apology,  or  three  shots  followed  up  by 
explanation,  or  fire  on  till  a severe  hit  be  received  by  one 
party  or  the  other. 


THE  FIRE-EATERS. 


287 


5.  — As  a blow  is  strictly  prohibited  under  any  circum- 
stances amongst  gentlemen,  no  verbal  apology  can  be 
received  for  such  an  insult  ; the  alternatives,  therefore,  are, 
the  offender  handing  a cane  to  the  injured  party,  to  be  used 
on  his  own  back,  at  the  same  time  begging  pardon  ; firing  on 
until  one  or  both  is  disabled,  or  exchanging  three  shots, 
and  then  asking  pardon,  without  the  proffer  of  the  cane . 

If  swords  are  used,  the  parties  engage  till  one  is  well 
blooded,  disabled,  or  disarmed  ; or  until,  after  receiving  a, 
wound,  and  blood  being  drawn,  the  aggressor  begs  pardon. 

N.B. — A disarm  is  considered  the  same  as  a disable  ; the 
disarmer  may  strictly  break  his  adversary’s  sword  ; but  if  it 
be  the  challenger  who  is  disarmed,  it  is  considered  as 
ungenerous  to  do  so. 

In  case  the  challenged  be  disarmed  and  refuses  to  ask 
pardon  or  atone,  he  must  not  be  killed , as  formerly  ; but  the 
challenger  may  lay  his  own  sword  on  the  aggressor’s  shoulder 
then  break  the  aggressor’s  sword,  and  say,  “ I spare  your 
life  ! ” The  challenged  can  never  revive  that  quarrel — the 
challenger  may. 

6.  — If  A.  gives  B.  the  lie,  and  B.  retorts  by  a blow,  being 
the  two  greatest  offences,  no  reconciliation  can  take  place 
till  after  two  discharges  each,  or  a severe  hit  ; after  which 
B.  may  beg  A/s  pardon  humbly  for  the  blow,  and  then  A. 
may  explain  simply  for  the  lie  ; because  a blow  is  never 
allowable,  and  the  offence  of  the  lie,  therefore,  merges  in  it. 
(See  preceding  rule.) 

N.B. — Challenges  for  undivulged  causes  may  be  recon- 
ciled on  the  ground,  after  one  shot.  An  explanation  or  the 
slightest  hit  should  be  sufficient  in  such  cases,  because  no 
personal  offence  transpired. 

7- — But  no  apology  can  be  received  in  any  case  after 
the  parties  have  actually  taken  their  ground,  without  ex- 
change of  fires. 


288 


Barrington’s  recollections. 


8.  — In  the  above  case  no  challenger  is  obliged  to  divulge 
his  cause  of  challenge,  if  private,  unless  required  by  the 
challenged  so  to  do  before  their  meeting. 

9.  — All  imputations  of  cheating  at  play,  races,  etc.,  to  be 
considered  equivalent  to  a blow  ; but  may  be  reconciled 
after  one  shot,  on  admitting  their  falsehood,  and  begging 
pardon  publicly. 

10.  — Any  insult  to  a lady  under  a gentleman’s  care  or 
protection,  to  be  considered  as,  by  one  degree,  a greater 
offence  than  if  given  to  the  gentleman  personally,  and  to  be 
regulated  accordingly . 

11.  — Offences  originating  or  accruing  from  the  support 
of  ladies’  reputation,  to  be  considered  as  less  unjustifiable 
than  any  others  of  the  same  class,  and  as  admitting  of  slighter 
apologies  by  the  aggressor — this  to  be  determined  by  the 
circumstances  of  the  case,  but  always  favourable  to  the  lady. 

12.  — In  simple  unpremeditated  rencontres  with  the  small 
sword,  or  couteau-de-chasse , the  rule  is — first  draw,  first 
sheathe  ; unless  blood  be  drawn,  then  both  sheathe,  and 
proceed  to  investigation. 

13.  — No  dumb-shooting  or  firing  in  the  air  admissible  in 
any  case . The  challenger  ought  not  to  have  challenged 
without  receiving  offence  ; and  the  challenged  ought,  if  he 
gave  offence,  to  have  made  an  apology  before  he  came  on 
the  ground  ; therefore,  children's  play  must  be  dishonour- 
able on  one  side  or  the  other,  and  is  accordingly  prohibited. 

14.  — Seconds  to  be  of  equal  rank  in  society  with  the 
principals  they  attend,  inasmuch  as  a second  may  either 
choose  or  chance  to  become  a principal,  and  equality  is 
indispensable. 

15.  — Challenges  are  never  to  be  delivered  at  night,  unless 
the  party  to  be  challenged  intends  leaving  the  place  of 


THE  FIRE-EATERS.  289 

offence  before  morning  ; for  it  is  desirable  to  avoid  all 
hot-headed  proceedings. 

16.  — The  challenged  has  the  right  to  choose  his  own 
weapon,  unless  the  challenger  gives  his  honour  he  is  no 
swordsman  ; after  which,  however,  he  cannot  decline  any 
second  species  of  weapon  proposed  by  the  challenged. 

17.  — The  challenged  chooses  his  ground  ; the  challenger 
chooses  his  distance  ; the  seconds  fix  the  time  and  terms 
of  firing. 

18.  — The  seconds  load  in  presence  of  each  other,  unless 
they  give  their  mutual  honours  they  have  charged  smooth 
and  single,  which  should  be  held  sufficient. 

19.  — Firing  may  be  regulated — first,  by  signal  ; secondly, 
by  word  of  command  ; or  thirdly,  at  pleasure,  as  may  be 
agreeable  to  the  parties.  In  the  latter  case  the  parties  may 
fire  at  their  reasonable  leisure,  but  second  presents  and  rests 
are  strictly  prohibited. 

20.  — In  all  cases  a miss-fire  is  equivalent  to  a shot,  and  a 
snap  or  a non-cock  is  to  be  considered  as  a miss-fire. 

21.  — Seconds  are  bound  to  attempt  a reconciliation  before 
the  meeting  takes  place,  or  after  sufficient  firing  or  hits,  as 
specified. 

22.  — Any  wound  sufficient  to  agitate  the  nerves  and 
necessarily  make  the  hand  shake,  must  end  the  business  for 
that  day . 

23.  — If  the  cause  of  meeting  be  of  such  a nature  that  no 
apology  or  explanation  can  or  will  be  received,  the  chal- 
lenged takes  his  ground,  and  calls  on  the  challenger  to 
proceed  as  he  chooses  ; in  such  cases  firing  at  pleasure  is 
the  usual  practice,  but  may  be  varied  by  agreement. 

(D3n) 


V 


290 


Barrington’s  recollections. 


24.  — In  slight  cases  the  second  hands  his  principal  but 
one  pistol,  but  in  gross  cases  two,  holding  another  case 
ready-charged  in  reserve. 

25.  — Where  seconds  disagree,  and  resolve  to  exchange 
shots  themselves,  it  must  be  at  the  same  time  and  at  right 
angles  with  their  principals,  thus  : — 


If  with  swords,  side  by  side  with  five  paces  interval. 

N.B. — All  matters  and  doubts  not  herein  mentioned  will 
be  explained  and  cleared  up  by  application  to  the  com- 
mittee, who  meet  alternately  at  Clonmell  and  Galway,  at  the 
quarter  sessions,  for  that  purpose. 


Crow  Ryan, 
James  Keogh, 
Amby  Bodkin, 


President . 
j>  Secretaries . 


ADDITIONAL  GALWAY  ARTICLES. 

1.  — No  party  can  be  allowed  to  bend  his  knee  or  cover 
his  side  with  his  left  hand  ; but  may  present  at  any  level 
from  the  hip  to  the  eye. 

2.  — None  can  either  advance  or  retreat  if  the  ground  be 
measured.  If  no  ground  be  measured,  either  party  may 
advance  at  his  pleasure,  even  to  touch  muzzle  ; but  neither 


THE  FIRE-EATERS,  29 1 

can  advance  on  his  adversary  after  the  fire,  unless  the 
adversary  steps  forward  on  him. 

N.B. — The  seconds  on  both  sides  stand  responsible  for 
this  last  rule  being  strictly  observed,  bad  cases  having  accrued 
from  neglecting  of  it. 

These  rules  and  resolutions  of  the  “ Fire-eaters  ” and 
“ Knights  of  Tara  ” were  the  more  deeply  impressed  on  my 
mind  from  my  having  run  a great  chance  of  losing  my  life, 
when  a member  of  the  university,  in  consequence  of  the 
strict  observance  of  one  of  them.  A young  gentleman  of 
Galway,  Mr.  Richard  Daly,  then  a Templar,  had  the 
greatest  predilection  for  single  combat  of  any  person,  not  a 
society  fire-eater,  I ever  recollect  ; he  had  fought  sixteen 
duels  in  the  space  of  two  years — three  with  swords  and 
thirteen  with  pistols — yet  with  so  little  skill  or  so  much 
good  fortune  that  not  a wound  worth  mentioning  occurred  in 
the  course  of  the  whole.  This  gentleman  afterwards  figured 
for  many  years  as  patentee  of  the  Theatre  Royal,  Dublin, 
and  had  the  credit  of  first  introducing  that  superior  woman 
and  actress,  Mrs.  Jordan,  when  Miss  Francis,  on  the  Dublin 
boards. 

I was  surprised  one  winter’s  evening  at  college  by  receiving 
a written  challenge  in  the  nature  of  an  invitation  from  Mr. 
Daly  to  fight  him  early  the  ensuing  morning.  I never  had 
spoken  a word  to  him  in  my  life,  and  scarcely  of  him,  and 
no  possible  cause  of  quarrel  that  I could  guess  existed 
between  us.  However,  it  being  then  a decided  opinion  that 
a first  overture  of  that  nature  could  never  be  declined,  I 
accepted  the  invitation  without  any  inquiry — writing  in  reply 
that,  as  to  place,  I chose  the  field  of  Donnybrook  fair  as 
the  fittest  spot  for  all  sorts  of  encounters . I had  then  to 
look  out  for  a second,  and  resorted  to  a person  with  whom 
I was  very  intimate,  and  who,  as  he  was  a curious  character, 
may  be  worth  noticing.  He  was  brother  to  the  unfortunate 


292 


BARRINGTON’S  RECOLLECTIONS, 


Sir  Edward  Crosby,  Bart.,  who  was  murdered  by  a court- 
martial  at  Carlow,  May,  1798.  My  friend  was  afterwards 
called  “ Balloon  Crosby,”  being  the  first  aeronaut  who  con- 
structed an  Hibernian  balloon,  and  ventured  to  take  a 
journey  into  the  sky  from  Ireland.  And  a most  unfortunate 
journey  it  was  for  the  spectators  ! The  ascent  was  from 
the  Duke  of  Leinster’s  lawn,  Merrion  Square  ; the  crowds 
outside  were  immense,  and  so  many  squeezed  together  and 
leaned  against  a thick  parapet  wall  fronting  the  street,  that 
it  yielded  to  the  weight  and  pressure,  and  the  spectators 
and  parapet  wall  came  tumbling  down  together  a great 
depth.  Several  were  killed  and  many  disabled  ; whilst 
Crosby  sailed  quietly  over  their  heads,  in  all  human  proba- 
bility to  be  drowned  before  an  hour  had  expired. 

Crosby  was  of  immense  stature,  being  above  six  feet 
three  inches  high  ; he  had  a comely-looking,  fat,  ruddy  face, 
and  was,  beyond  all  comparison,  the  most  ingenious  me- 
chanic I ever  knew.  He  had  a smattering  of  all  sciences, 
and  there  was  scarcely  an  art  or  a trade  of  which  he  had  not 
some  practical  knowledge.  His  chambers  at  college  were 
like  a general  workshop  for  all  kinds  of  artizans.  He  was 
very  good-tempered,  exceedingly  strong,  and  as  brave  as  a 
lion,  but  as  dogged  as  a mule.  Nothing  could  change  a 
resolution  of  his  when  once  made,  and  nothing  could  check 
or  resist  his  perseverance  to  carry  it  into  execution.  He 
highly  approved  of  my  promptness  in  accepting  Daly’s 
invitation  ; but  I told  him  that  I unluckily  had  no  pistols, 
and  did  not  know  where  to  procure  any  against  the  next 
morning.  This  puzzled  him  ; but  on  recollection  he  said 
he  had  no  complete  pistols  neither,  but  he  had  some  old 
locks , barrels , and  stocks , which,  as  they  did  not  originally 
belong  to  each  other,  he  should  find  it  very  difficult  to  make 
anything  of ; nevertheless,  he  would  fall  to  work  directly. 
He  kept  me  up  till  late  at  night  in  his  chambers  to  help  him 
in  filing  the  old  locks  and  barrels,  and  endeavouring  to 


THE  FIRE-EATERS. 


293 


patch  up  two  or  three  of  them  so  as  to  go  off  and  answer 
that  individual  job.  Various  trials  were  made  ; much  filing, 
drilling,  and  scanning  were  necessary.  However,  by  two 
o’clock  in  the  morning  we  had  completed  three  entire 
pistols,  which,  though  certainly  of  various  lengths  and  of 
the  most  ludicrous  workmanship,  struck  their  fire  right  well , 
and  that  was  all  we  wanted  of  them — symmetry,  as  he 
remarked,  being  of  no  great  value  upon  these  occasions. 

It  was  before  seven  o’clock  on  the  twentieth  of  March, 
with  a cold  wind  and  a sleety  atmosphere,  that  we  set  out 
on  foot  for  the  field  of  Donnybrook  fair,  after  having  taken 
some  good  chocolate  and  a plentiful  draught  of  cherry 
brandy,  to  keep  the  cold  wind  out.  On  arriving,  we  saw  my 
antagonist  and  his  friend,  Jack  Patterson,  nephew  to  the 
chief  justice,  already  on  the  ground.  I shall  never  forget 
Daly’s  figure.  He  was  a very  fine  looking  young  fellow,  but 
with  such  a squint  that  it  was  totally  impossible  to  say  what 
he  looked  at,  except  his  nose,  of  which  he  never  lost  sight. 
His  dress — they  had  come  in  a coach — made  me  ashamed  of 
my  own  ; he  wore  a pea-green  coat,  a large  tucker  with  a 
diamond  brooch  stuck  in  it,  a three-cocked  hat  with  a gold 
button-loop  and  tassels,  and  silk  stockings,  and  a couteau - 
de-chasse  hung  gracefully  dangling  from  his  thigh.  In  fact, 
he  looked  as  if  already  standing  in  a state  of  triumph,  after 
having  vanquished  and  trampled  on  his  antagonist.  I did 
not  half-like  his  steady  position,  showy  surface,  and  mysteri- 
ous squint ; and  I certainly  would  rather  have  exchanged  two 
shots  with  his  slovenly  friend,  Jack  Patterson,  than  one  with 
so  magnificent  and  overbearing  an  adversary. 

My  friend  Crosby,  without  any  sort  of  salutation  or 
prologue,  immediately  cried  out,  “ Ground,  gentlemen  ! 
ground,  ground,  ground  ! damn  measurement  ! ” and 
placing  me  on  his  selected  spot,  whispered  into  my  ear, 
“ Medio  tutissimus  ibis  : never  look  at  the  head  or  the  heels  ; 
hip  the  maccaroni  ! the  hip  for  ever,  my  boy  ! hip,  hip  ! ” — 


294 


Barrington’s  recollections. 


when  my  antagonist’s  second,  advancing  and  accosting  mine, 
said  Mr.  Daly  could  not  think  of  going  any  further  with  the 
business  ; that  he  found  it  was  totally  a mistake  on  his  part, 
originating  through  misrepresentation,  and  that  he  begged 
to  say  he  was  extremely  sorry  for  having  given  Mr. 
Barrington  and  his  friend  the  trouble  of  coming  out,  hoping 
they  would  excuse  it  and  shake  hands  with  him.  To  this 
arrangement  I certainly  had  no  sort  of  objection  ; but 
Crosby,  without  hesitation,  said,  “ We  cannot  do  that  yet , 
sir  ; I’ll  show  you  we  can't”  taking  a little  manuscript  book 
out  of  his  breeches  pocket,  “ there’s  the  rules  ! look  at  that, 
sir,”  continued  he,  “ see  No.  7 : ‘no  apology  can  be  re- 
ceived after  the  parties  meet,  without  a fire'  You  see, 
there’s  the  rule,”  pursued  Crosby,  with  infinite  self-satisfac- 
tion ; “ and  a young  man  on  his  first  blood  cannot  break  rule, 
particularly  with  a gentleman  so  used  to  the  sport  as  Mr.  Daly. 
Come,  gentlemen,  proceed  ! proceed  ! ” 

Daly  appeared  much  displeased,  but  took  his  ground, 
without  speaking  a word,  about  nine  paces  from  me.  He 
presented  his  pistol  instantly,  but  gave  me  most  gallantly  a 
full  front. 

It  being,  as  Crosby  said,  my  first  blood,  I lost  no  time, 
but  let  fly  without  a single  second  of  delay,  and  without 
taking  aim  ; Daly  staggered  back  two  or  three  steps,  put  his 
hand  to  his  breast,  cried,  “ I’m  hit,  sir  ! ” and  did  not  fire. 
Crosby  gave  me  a slap  on  the  back  which  staggered  me,  and 
a squeeze  of  the  hand  which  nearly  crushed  my  fingers. 
We  got  round  him  ; his  waistcoat  was  opened,  and  a black 
spot  about  the  size  of  a crown-piece,  with  a little  blood, 
appeared  directly  on  his  breast-bone.  I was  greatly  shocked ; 
fortunately,  however,  the  ball  had  not  penetrated  ; but  his 
brooch  had  been  broken,  and  a piece  of  the  setting  was 
sticking  fast  in  the  bone.  Crosby  stamped,  cursed  the  damp 
powder  or  under-loading,  and  calmly  pulled  out  the  brooch  ; 
Daly  said  not  a word,  put  his  cambric  handkerchief  doubled 


THE  FIRE-EATERS. 


295 


to  his  breast,  and  bowed.  I returned  the  salute,  extremely 
glad  to  get  out  of  the  scrape,  and  so  we  parted  without 
conversation  or  ceremony,  save  that  wThen  I expressed  my 
wish  to  know  the  cause  of  his  challenging  me,  Daly  replied 
that  he  would  now  give  no  such  explanation  ; and  his  friend 
then  produced  his  book  of  rules,  quoting  No  8 : “ If  a 
party  challenged  accepts  the  challenge  without  asking  the 
reason  of  it,  the  challenger  is  never  bound  to  divulge  it 
afterwards.” 

My  friend  Crosby,  as  I have  mentioned,  afterwards 
attempted  to  go  off  from  Dublin  to  England  in  a balloon  of 
his  own  making,  and  dropped  between  Dublin  and  Holyhead 
into  the  sea,  but  was  saved.  The  poor  fellow,  however,  died 
far  too  early  in  life  for  the  arts  and  sciences,  and  for  friend- 
ship, which  he  was  eminently  capable  of  exciting.  I never 
saw  two  persons  in  face  and  figure  more  alike  than  Crosby 
and  my  friend  Daniel  O’Connell  ; but  Crosby  was  the  taller 
by  two  inches,  and  it  was  not  so  easy  to  discover  that  he  was 
an  Irishman. 


2^6 


Barrington’s  recollections. 


CHAPTER  XXXVI. 

DUELLING  EXTRAORDINARY. 

Our  elections  were  more  prolific  in  duels  than  any  other 
public  meetings  ; they  very  seldom  originated  at  a horse- 
race, cock-fight,  hunt,  or  at  any  place  of  amusement  ; folks 
then  had  pleasure  in  view,  and  “ something  else  to  do  ” than 
to  quarrel  ; but  at  all  elections,  or  at  assizes,  or,  in  fact,  at 
any  place  of  business,  almost  every  man,  without  any  very 
particular  or  assignable  reason,  immediately  became  a 
violent  partisan,  and  frequently  a furious  enemy  to  some- 
body else  ; and  gentlemen  often  got  themselves  shot  before 
they  could  tell  what  they  were  fighting  about. 

At  an  election  for  Queen’s  County,  between  General 
Walsh  and  Mr.  Warburton,  of  Garryhinch,  about  the  year 
1783,  took  place  the  most  curious  duel  of  any  which  have 
occurred  within  my  recollection.  A Mr.  Frank  Skelton,  one 
of  the  half-mounted  gentlemen  described  in  the  early  part  of 
this  volume,  a boisterous,  joking,  fat  young  fellow,  was 
prevailed  on,  much  against  his  grain,  to  challenge  the  ex- 
ciseman of  the  town  for  running  the  butt-end  of  a horse-whip 
down  his  throat  the  night  before  whilst  he  lay  drunk  and 
sleeping  with  his  mouth  open.  The  exciseman  insisted  that 
snoring  at  a dinner-table  was  a personal  offence  to  every 
gentleman  in  company,  and,  would,  therefore,  make  no 
apology. 

Frank,  though  he  had  been  nearly  choked,  was  very 
reluctant  to  fight  ; he  said  “ he  was  sure  to  die  if  he  did,  as 
the  exciseman  could  snuff  a candle  with  his  pistol  ball  ; and 
as  he  himself  was  as  big  as  a hundred  dozen  of  candles,  what 
chance  could  he  have  ? ” We  told  him  jocosely  to  give  the 


DUELLING  EXTRAORDINARY. 


297 


exciseman  no  time  to  take  aim  at  him,  by  which  means  he 
might  perhaps  hit  his  adversary  first,  and  thus  survive  the 
contest.  He  seemed  somewhat  encouraged  and  consoled  by 
the  hint,  and  most  strictly  did  he  adhere  to  it. 

Hundreds  of  the  townspeople  went  to  see  the  fight  on 
the  green  of  Maryborough.  The  ground  was  regularly 
measured,  and  the  friends  of  each  party  pitched  a ragged 
tent  on  the  green,  where  whiskey  and  salt  beef  were  con- 
sumed in  abundance.  Skelton  having  taken  his  ground, 
and  at  the  same  time  two  heavy  drams  from  a bottle  his 
foster-brother  had  brought,  appeared  quite  stout  till  he  saw 
the  balls  entering  the  mouths  of  the  exciseman's  pistols, 
which  shone  as  bright  as  silver,  and  were  nearly  as  long  as 
fusils.  This  vision  made  a palpable  alteration  in  Skelton's 
sentiments  ; he  changed  colour,  and  looked  about  him  as  if 
he  wanted  some  assistance.  However,  their  seconds,  who 
were  of  the  same  rank  and  description,  handed  to  each 
party  his  case  of  pistols,  and  half-bellowed  to  them — “ Blaze 
away,  boys  ! ” 

Skelton  now  recollected  his  instructions,  and  lost  no  time  ; 
he  cocked  both  his  pistols  at  once,  and  as  the  exciseman 
was  deliberately  and  most  scientifically  coming  to  his  “ dead 
level,"  as  he  called  it,  Skelton  let  fly. 

“ Holloa  ! " said  the  exciseman,  dropping  his  level,  “I'm 
battered,  by  Jasus  ! ” 

“ The  devil’s  cure  to  you  ! ” said  Skelton,  instantly  firing 
his  second  pistol. 

One  of  the  exciseman's  legs  then  gave  way,  and  down  he 
came  on  his  knee,  exclaiming  “ Holloa  ! holloa  ! you  blood- 
thirsty villain  ! do  you  want  to  take  my  life  ? ” 

“ Why,  to  be  sure  I do  ! " said  Skelton.  “ Ha  ! ha  ! have 
I stiffened  you,  my  lad  ? ” Wisely  judging,  however,  that  if 
he  staid  till  the  exciseman  recovered  his  legs,  he  might 
have  a couple  of  shots  to  stand,  he  wheeled  about,  took  to 
his  heels,  and  got  away  as  fast  as  possible.  The  crowd 


2gB 


Barrington’s  recollections. 


shouted  ; but  Skelton,  like  a hare  when  started,  ran  the 
faster  for  the  shouting. 

Jemmy  Moffit,  his  own  second,  followed,  overtook, 
tripped  up  his  heels,  and  cursing  him  for  a disgraceful 
rascal,  asked  “ Why  he  ran  away  from  the  exciseman  ? ” 

“ Ough  thunther  ! ” said  Skelton,  with  his  chastest  brogue, 
“ how  many  holes  did  the  villain  want  to  have  drilled  into 
his  carcass  ? Would  you  have  me  stop  to  make  a riddle 
of  him,  Jemmy  ? ” 

The  second  insisted  that  Skelton  should  return  to  the 
field  to  be  shot  at.  He  resisted,  affirming  that  he  had 
done  all  that  honour  required.  The  second  called  him  “ a 
coward  ! ” 

“ By  my  sowl,”  returned  he,  “ my  dear  Jemmy  Moffit, 
may  be  so  ! you  may  call  me  a coward,  if  you  please  ; but  I 
did  it  all  for  the  best” 

“ The  best ! you  blackguard  ? ” 

“ Yes,”  said  Frank  ; “ sure  it’s  better  to  be  a coward  than 
a corpse  ! and  I must  have  been  either  one  or  t'other  of 
them.” 

However,  he  was  dragged  up  to  the  ground  by  his  second, 
after  agreeing  to  fight  again  if  he  had  another  pistol  given 
him.  But,  luckily  for  Frank,  the  last  bullet  had  stuck  so  fast 
between  the  bones  of  the  exciseman’s  leg  that  he  could  not 
stand.  The  friends  of  the  latter  then  proposed  to  strap  him 
to  a tree,  that  he  might  be  able  to  shoot  Skelton  ; but  this 
being  positively  objected  to  by  Frank,  the  exciseman  was 
carried  home  ; his  first  wound  was  on  the  side  of  his  thigh, 
and  the  second  in  his  right  leg  ; but  neither  proved  at  ali 
dangerous. 

The  exciseman,  determined  on  haling  Frank,  as  he  called 
it,  on  his  recovery,  challenged  Skelton  in  his  turn.  Skelton 
accepted  the  challenge,  but  said  he  was  tould  he  had  a right 
to  choose  his  own  weapons.  The  exciseman  knowing  that 
such  was  the  law,  and  that  Skelton  was  no  swordsman,  and 


DUELLING  EXTRAORDINARY. 


-99 


not  anticipating  any  new  invention,  acquiesced.  “ Then/’ 
said  Skelton,  “ for  my  weapons  I choose  my  fists  ; and  by 
the  powers,  you  gauger,  I’ll  give  you  such  a basting  that 
your  nearest  relations  shan’t  know  you.”  Skelton  insisted 
on  his  right,  and  the  exciseman  not  approving  of  this  species 
of  combat,  got  nothing  by  his  challenge  ; the  affair  dropped, 
and  Skelton  triumphed. 

The  only  modern  instance  I recollect  to  have  heard  of 
as  applicable  to  No.  25  (refer  to  the  regulations  detailed  in 
last  sketch),  was  that  of  old  John  Bourke,  of  Glinsk,  and 
Mr.  Amby  Bodkin.  They  fought  near  Glinsk,  and  the  old 
family  steward  and  other  servants  brought  out  the  present 
Sir  John,  then  a child,  and  held  him  upon  a man’s 
shoulder  to  see  papa  fight.  On  that  occasion  both  principals 
and  seconds  engaged  ; they  stood  at  right  angles,  ten  paces 
distant,  and  all  began  firing  together  on  the  signal  of  a 
pistol  discharged  by  an  umpire.  At  the  first  volley  the 
two  principals  were  touched,  though  very  slightly.  The 
second  volley  told  better  ; both  the  seconds,  and  Amby 
Bodkin,  Esq.,  staggered  out  of  their  places  ; they  were 
well  hit,  but  no  lives  lost.  It  was,  according  to  custom,  an 
election  squabble. 

The  Galway  Rule  No.  2 was  well  exemplified  in  a duel 
between  a friend  of  mine,  the  present  first  counsel  to  the 
Commissioners  of  Ireland,  and  a Counsellor  O’Maher. 
O’Maher  was  the  challenger  ; no  ground  was  measured  ; 
they  fired  ad  libitum . G — y,  never  at  a loss  upon  such 
occasions,  took  his  ground  at  once,  and  kept  it  steadily  ; 
O’Maher  began  his  career  at  a hundred  paces  distance, 
advancing  obliquely  and  gradually  contracting  his  circle 
round  his  opponent,  who  continued  changing  his  front  by 
corresponding  movements  ; both  parties  now  and  then 
aiming,  as  feints,  then  taking  down  their  pistols.  This  pas  de 
deux  lasted  more  than  half  an  hour,  as  I have  been  informed  ; 
at  length,  when  the  assailant  had  contracted  his  circle 


3°° 


Barrington’s  recollections. 


to  firing  distance,  G — y cried  out,  suddenly  and  loudly, 
O’Maher  obeyed  the  signal,  and  instantly  fired,  G — y 
returned  the  shot,  and  the  challenger  reeled  back  hors  de 
combat . 

On  the  same  occasion,  Mr.  O’Maher's  second  said  to 
G — ’s,  the  famous  Counsellor  Ned  Lysigl  t . “ Mr.  Lysight 
take  care,  your  pistol  is  cocked  ! ” “ Well,  then,”  said 

Lysight,  “ cock  yours,  and  let  me  take  a slap  at  you  as  we  are 
idle  ! ” However,  this  proposition  was  not  acceded  to. 

There  could  not  be  a greater  game-cock , the  Irish  expres- 
sion, than  G — y.  He  was  not  only  spirited  himself,  but 
the  cause  of  infusing  spirit  into  others.  It  will  appear 
from  the  following  friendly  letter  which  I received  from 
him  during  my  contested  election  for  Maryborough  that 
Lord  Castlecoote,  the  returning  officer,  had  a tolerable 
chance  of  becoming  acquainted  with  my  friend’s  reporters , 
the  pet  name  for  hair  triggers , which  he  was  so  good  as  to 
send  me  for  the  occasion.  His  lordship,  however,  declined 
the  introduction. 

“Dublin,  Jan.  29th,  1800. 

“ My  dear  Jonah, 

“ I have  this  moment  sent  to  the  mail  coach- 
office  two  bullet-moulds,  not  being  certain  which  of  them 
belongs  to  the  reporters  ; suspecting,  however,  that  you 
may  not  have  time  to  melt  the  lead,  I also  send  half  a dozen 
bullets,  merely  to  keep  you  going  while  others  are  preparing. 

“ I lament  much  that  my  situation  and  political  feeling 
prevent  me  from  seeing  you  exhibit  at  Maryborough. 

“ Be  bold,  wicked,  steady,  and  fear  nought! 

“ Give  a line  to  yours  truly, 

“ H.  D.  G.” 

“ Jonah  Barrington,  Esq.” 

My  friend  G — y did  not  get  off  so  well  in  a little  affair 
which  he  had  in  Hyde  Park  in  the  night  on  which  occasion 


DUELLING  EXTRAORDINARY. 


301 


I was  his  guardian  ; a Counsellor  Campbell  happened  to  be 
a better  shot  than  my  friend,  and  the  moon  had  the  un- 
pleasant view  of  his  discomfiture — he  got  what  they  call  a 
crack  ; however,  it  did  not  matter  much,  and  in  a few  da\s 
G — y was  on  his  legs  again. 

There  could  not  be  a better  elucidation  of  Rule  No.  5,  of 
the  code  of  honour,  than  an  anecdote  of  Barry  Yelverton, 
second  son  of  Lord  Avonmore,  Baron  of  the  Exchequer. 
Barry  was  rather  too  odd  a fellow  to  have  been  accounted  at 
all  times  perfectly  compos  mentis . He  was  a barrister.  In  a 
ball-room  on  circuit,  where  the  officers  of  a newly  arrived 
regiment  had  come  to  amuse  themselves  and  set  the  Munster 
lasses  agog,  Barry  having  made  too  many  libations,  let  out 
his  natural  dislike  to  the  military,  and  most  grossly  insulted 
several  of  the  officers — abusing  one,  treading  on  the  toes  of 
another,  jostling  a third,  and  so  forth,  till  he  had  got  through 
the  whole  regiment.  Respect  for  the  women,  and  the 
not  choosing  to  commit  themselves  with  the  black  gowns 
on  the  first  day  of  their  arrival,  induced  the  insulted  parties 
to  content  themselves  with  only  requiring  Barry’s  address, 
and  his  hour  of  being  seen  the  next  morning.  Barry,  with 
great  satisfaction,  gave  each  of  them  his  card,  but  informed 
them  that  sending  to  him  was  unnecessary — that  he  was  hh 
own  second , and  would  meet  every  man  of  them  at  eight 
o’clock  next  morning  in  the  ball-room,  concluding  by 
desiring  them  to  bring  their  swords,  as  that  was  always  his 
weapon.  Though  this  was  rather  a curious  rendezvous,  yet 
the  challenged  having  the  right  to  choose  his  weapon,  and 
the  place  being  apropos , the  officers  all  attended  next  day 
punctually  with  the  surgeon  of  the  regiment  and  a due 
proportion  of  small  swords,  fully  expecting  that  some  of  his 
brother  gownsmen  would  join  in  the  rencontre  On  their 
arrival,  Barry  requested  to  know  how  many  gentlemen  had 
done  him  the  honour  of  giving  him  the  invitation,  and  was 
told  their  names,  amounting  to  nine.  “ Very  well,  gentle- 


302 


Barrington’s  recollections. 


men,”  said  Yelverton,  “ I am  well  aware  I abused  some  of 
you,  and  gave  others  an  offence  equivalent  to  a blow,  which 
latter  being  the  greatest  insult,  we’ll  dispose  of  those  cases 
first,  and  I shall  return  in  a few  minutes  fully  prepared.” 

They  conceived  he  had  gone  for  his  sword  and  friends. 
But  Barry  soon  after  returned  alone,  and  resumed  thus  : — 
“ Now,  gentlemen,  those  to  each  of  whom  I gave  an  equiva- 
lent to  a blow  will  please  step  forward.”  Four  of  them 
accordingly  did  so,  when  Barry  took  from  under  his  coat  a 
bundle  of  switches,  and  addressed  them  as  follows  : — 
“ Gentlemen,  permit  me  to  have  the  honour  of  handing  each 
of  you  a switch — according  to  the  Rule  No.  5 of  the  Tipperary 
Resolutions — wherewith  to  return  the  blow,  if  you  feel  any 
particular  desire  to  put  that  extremity  into  practice.  I fancy, 
gentlemen,  that  settles  four  of  you  ; and  as  to  the  rest,  here,” 
handing  one  of  his  cards  to  each,  with  I beg  your  pardon 
written  above  his  name,  “ that’s  agreeable  to  No.  1,”  reading 
the  rule.  “ Now,  I fancy  all  your  cases  are  disposed  of  ; and 
having  done  my  duty  according  to  the  Tipperary  Resolu- 
tions, which  I will  never  swerve  from,  if,  gentlemen,  you  are 
not  satisfied,  I shall  be  on  the  bridge  to-morrow  morning 
with  a case  of  barking-irons .”  The  officers  stared,  first  at 
him,  then  at  each  other  ; the  honest,  jolly  countenance  and 
drollery  of  Barry  were  quite  irresistible  ; first  a smile  of 
surprise,  and  then  a general  laugh  took  place,  and  the 
catastrophe  was  their  asking  Barry  to  dine  with  them  at  the 
mess,  where  his  eccentricity  and  good  humour  delighted 
the  whole  regiment.  The  poor  fellow  grew  quite  deranged 
at  last,  and  died,  I believe,  in  rather  unpleasant  circum- 
stances. 

The  late  Lord  Mount  Garret,  afterwards  Earl  of  Kilkenny, 
had  for  several  years  a great  number  of  lawsuits  at  once  on 
his  hands,  particularly  with  some  insolvent  tenants,  whose 
causes  had  been  gratuitously  taken  up  by  Mr.  Ball,  an 
attorney,  Mr.  William  Johnson,  the  barrister,  and  seven  or 


DUELLING  EXTRAORDINARY. 


303 


eight  others  of  the  circuit.  His  lordship  was  dreadfully 
tormented.  He  was  naturally  a very  clever  man,  and 
devised  a new  mode  of  carrying  on  his  lawsuits.  He 
engaged  a clientless  attorney,  named  Egan,  as  his  working 
solicitor,  at  a very  liberal  yearly  stipend,  upon  the  express 
terms  of  his  undertaking  no  other  business , and  holding  his 
office  solely  in  his  lordship’s  own  house  and  under  his  own 
eye  and  direction.  His  lordship  applied  to  Mr.  Fletcher, 
afterwards  judge,  and  myself,  requesting  an  interview,  upon 
which  he  informed  us  of  his  situation  ; that  there  were 
generally  ten  counsel  pitted  against  him,  but  that  he  would 
have  much  more  reliance  on  the  advice  and  punctual  attend- 
ance of  two  steady  than  of  ten  straggling  gentlemen  ; and  that 
under  the  full  conviction  that  one  of  us  would  always  attend 
the  courts  when  his  causes  were  called  on,  and  not  leave 
him  in  the  lurch  as  he  had  been  left,  he  had  directed  his 
attorneys  to  mark  on  our  two  briefs  ten  times  the  amount  of 
fees  paid  to  each  on  the  other  side  : “ Because,”  said  his 
lordship,  “ if  you  won’t  surely  attend,  I must  engage  ten 
counsel,  as  well  as  my  opponents,  and  perhaps  not  be 
attended  to  after  all.”  The  singularity  of  the  proposal  set 
us  laughing,  in  which  his  lordship  joined. 

Fletcher  and  I accepted  the  offer,  and  did  most  punctually 
attend  his  numerous  trials — were  most  liberally  feed — but 
most  unsuccessful  in  our  efforts  ; for  we  never  were  able  to 
gain  a single  cause  or  verdict  for  our  client. 

The  principle  of  strict  justice  certainly  was  with  his 
lordship,  but  certain  formalities  of  the  law  were  decidedly 
against  him  ; thus  perceiving  himself  likely  to  be  foiled,  he 
determined  to  take  another  course,  quite  our  of  our  line, 
and  a course  whereby  no  suit  is  decided  in  modern  days — 
namely,  to  fight  it  out , muzzle  to  muzzle,  with  the  attorney 
and  all  the  counsel  on  the  other  side. 

The  first  procedure  on  this  determination  was  a direct 
challenge  from  his  lordship  to  the  attorney,  Mr.  Ball  ; it  was 


304 


Barrington’s  recollections. 


accepted,  and  a duel  immediately  followed,  in  which  his 
lordship  got  the  worst  of  it.  He  was  wounded  by  the 
attorney  at  each  shot,  the  first  having  taken  place  in  his 
lordship’s  right  arm,  which  probably  saved  the  solicitor,  as 
his  lordship  was  a most  accurate  marksman.  The  noble 
challenger  received  the  second  bullet  in  his  side,  but  the 
wound  was  not  dangerous. 

My  lord  and  the  attorney  having  been  thus  disposed  of, 
the  Honourable  Somerset  Butler,  his  lordship’s  son,  now 
took  the  field,  and  proceeded,  according  to  due  form,  by  a 
challenge  to  Mr.  Peter  Burr  owes,  the  first  of  the  adversaries’ 
counsel,  now  Judge  Commissioner  of  Insolvents.  The 
invitation  not  being  refused,  the  combat  took  place,  one 
cold,  frosty  morning,  near  Kilkenny.  Somerset  knew  his 
business  well  ; but  Peter  had  had  no  practice  whatever 
in  that  line  of  litigation. 

Few  persons  feel  too  warm  on  such  occasions,  and  Peter 
formed  no  exception  to  the  general  rule.  An  old  woman 
who  sold  spiced  gingerbread  nuts  in  the  street  he  passed 
through,  accosted  him,  extolling  her  nuts  to  the  very  skies, 
as  being  well  spiced,  and  fit  to  expel  the  wind  and  to  warm 
any  gentleman’s  stomach  as  well  as  a dram.  Peter  bought 
a pennyworth  on  the  advice  of  his  second,  Dick  Waddy,  an 
attorney,  and  duly  received  the  change  of  a sixpenny-piece, 
put  the  coppers  and  nuts  into  his  waistcoat  pocket , and 
marched  off  to  the  scene  of  action. 

Preliminaries  being  soon  arranged,  the  pistols  given,  ten 
steps  measured,  the  flints  hammered,  and  the  feather-springs 
set,  Somerset,  a fine  dashing  young  fellow,  full  of  spirit, 
activity,  and  animation,  gave  elderly  Peter,  who  was  no 
posture-master,  but  little  time  to  take  his  fighting  position  ; 
in  fact,  he  had  scarcely  raised  his  pistol  to  a wabbling  level 
before  Somerset’s  ball  came  crack  dash  against  Peter’s  body  ! 
The  halfpence  rattled  in  his  pocket  ; Peter  dropped  flat, 
Somerset  fled,  Dick  Waddy  roared  “ murder,”  and  called 


DUELLING  EXTRAORDINARY. 


305 


out  to  Surgeon  Pack.  Peter’s  clothes  were  ripped  up  ; and 
Pack,  secundum  artem , examined  the  wound  ; a black  hole 
designated  the  spot  where  the  lead  had  penetrated  Peter’s 
abdomen.  The  doctor  shook  his  head,  and  pronounced 
but  one  short  word,  “mortal!” — it  was,  however,  more 
expressive  than  a long  speech.  Peter  groaned,  and  tried  to 
recollect  some  prayer,  if  possible,  or  a scrap  of  his  catechism ; 
his  friend  Waddy  began  to  think  about  the  coroner  ; his 
brother  barristers  sighed  heavily,  and  Peter  was  supposed  to 
be  fast  departing  this  world,  but,  as  they  all  endeavoured  to 
persuade  him  for  a better , when  Surgeon  Pack,  after  another 
exclamation,  taking  leave  of  Peter,  and  leaning  his  hand  on 
the  grass  to  assist  him  in  rising,  felt  something  hard,  took  it 
up  and  looked  at  it  curiously  ; the  spectators  closed  in  the 
circle  to  see  Peter  die  ; the  patient  turned  his  expiring  eyes 
towards  Surgeon  Pack,  as  much  as  to  ask,  “ Is  there  no 
hope  ? ” — when  lo  ! the  doctor  held  up  to  the  astonished 
assembly  the  identical  bullet , which,  having  rattled  amongst 
the  heads  and  harps  and  gingerbread  nuts  in  Peter’s  waist- 
coat pocket,  had  flattened  its  own  body  on  the  surface  of  a 
preserving  copper,  and  left  His  Majesty’s  bust  distinctly 
imprinted  and  accurately  designated,  in  black  and  blue 
shading,  on  his  subject’s  carcass  ! Peter’s  heart  beat  high  ; 
he  stopped  his  prayers  ; and  finding  that  his  Gracious 
Sovereign  and  the  gingerbread  nuts  had  saved  his  life,  lost 
as  little  time  as  possible  in  rising  from  the  sod  on  which  he 
had  lain  extended  ; a bandage  was  applied  round  his  body, 
and  in  a short  time  Peter  was  able , though,  of  course,  he  had 
no  reason  to  be  o verwilling,  to  begin  the  combat  anew. 

His  lordship  having  now  on  his  part  recovered  from  the 
attorney’s  wound,  considered  it  high  time  to  recommence 
hostilities  according  to  his  original  plan  of  the  campaign  ; 
and  the  engagement  immediately  succeeding  was  between 
him  and  the  present  Counsellor  John  Byrne,  king’s  counsel, 
and  next  in  rotation  of  his  learned  adversaries. 

(D3") 


X 


3°6 


Barrington’s  recollections. 


His  lordship  was  much  pleased  with  the  spot  upon  which 
his  son  had  chosen  to  hit  Counsellor  Peter,  and  resolved  to 
select  the  same  for  a hit  on  Counsellor  John.  The  decision 
appeared  to  be  judicious,  and,  as  if  the  pistol  itself  could  not 
be  ignorant  of  its  direction,  and  had  been  gratified  at  its  own 
previous  accuracy  and  success,  for  it  was  the  same,  it  sent  a 
bullet  in  the  identical  level,  and  Counsellor  John  Byrne’s 
carcass  received  a precisely  similar  compliment  with  Coun- 
sellor Peter  Burro wes’s,  with  this  difference,  that  the  former 
had  bought  no  gingerbread  nuts,  and  the  matter  con- 
sequently appeared  more  serious.  I asked  him  during  his 
illness  how  he  felt  when  he  received  the  crack  ? — he  answered 
just  as  if  he  had  been  punched  by  the  mainmast  of  a man  of 
war  ! — certainly  a grand  simile  ; but  how  far  my  friend 
Byrne  was  enabled  to  form  the  comparison  he  never  divulged 
to  me. 

My  lord  having  got  through  two  of  them,  and  his  son  a 
third,  it  became  the  duty  of  Captain  Pierce  Butler,  brother 
to  Somerset,  to  take  his  turn  in  the  lists'.  The  barristers 
now  began  not  much  to  relish  this  species  of  argument,  and 
a gentleman  who  followed  next  but  one  on  the  list  owned 
fairly  to  me  that  he  would  rather  be  on  our  side  of  the 
question  ; but  it  was  determined  by  our  noble  client,  so  soon 
as  the  first  series  of  combats  should  be  finished,  to  begin 
a new  one,  till  he  and  the  lads  had  tried  the  mettle  or 
“ touched  the  inside  ” of  the  remaining  barristers.  Mr. 
Dicky  Guinness,  a little  dapper,  popular,  lisping,  jesting 
pleader,  was  the  next  on  the  list  ; and  the  Honourable 
Pierce  Butler,  his  intended  slaughterer,  was  advised,  for 
variety’s  sake,  to  put  what  is  called  the  onus  on  that  little 
gentleman,  and  thereby  force  him  to  become  the  challenger. 

Dick’s  friends  kindly  and  candidly  informed  him  that  he 
could  have  but  little  chance,  the  Honourable  Pierce  being 
one  of  the  most  resolute  of  a courageous  family,  and  quite 
an  undeviatmg  marksman  : that  he  had  besides  a hot, 


DUELLING  EXTRAORDINARY. 


307 


persevering,  thirsty  spirit,  which  a little  fighting  would  never 
satisfy  ; and.  as  Dicky  was  secretly  informed  that  he  would  to 
a certainty  be  forced  to  battle,  it  being  his  turn,  and  as  his 
speedy  dissolution  was  nearly  as  certain,  he  was  recom- 
mended to  settle  all  his  worldly  concerns  without  delay. 

But  it  was  otherwise  decided.  Providence  took  Dick’s 
part ; the  Honourable  Pierce  injudiciously  put  his  onus , and 
rather  a wicked  one,  on  Dick  in  open  court  before  the  judge  ; 
an  uproar  ensued,  and  the  Honourable  Pierce  hid  himself 
under  the  table.  However,  the  sheriff  lugged  him  out,  and 
prevented  that  encounter  effectually  ; Pierce  with  great 
difficulty  escaping  from  incarceration  on  giving  his  honour 
not  to  meddle  with  Dicky.  At  length,  his  lordship,  finding 
that  neither  the  laws  of  the  land  nor  those  of  battle  were 
likely  to  adjust  affairs  to  his  satisfaction,  suffered  them  to  be 
terminated  by  the  three  duels  and  as  many  wounds. 

Leonard  M‘Nally,  well  known  both  at  the  English  and 
Irish  bars,  and  in  the  dramatic  circles,  as  the  author  of  that 
popular  little  piece  Robin  Hood,  etc.,  was  one  of  the  strangest 
fellows  in  the  world.  His  figure  was  ludicrous  ; he  was  very 
short,  and  nearly  as  broad  as  long ; his  legs  were  of  unequal 
length,  and  he  had  a face  which  no  washing  could  clean  ; 
he  wanted  one  thumb,  the  absence  of  which  gave  rise  to 
numerous  expedients  on  his  part ; and  he  took  great  care  to 
have  no  nails,  as  he  regularly  ate  every  morning  the  growth 
of  the  preceding  day  ; he  never  wore  a glove,  lest  he  should 
appear  to  be  guilty  of  affectation  in  concealing  his  deformity. 
When  in  a hurry  he  generally  took  two  thumping  steps 
with  the  short  leg  to  bring  up  the  space  made  by  the  long 
one,  and  the  bar,  who  never  missed  a favourable  oppor- 
tunity of  nicknaming,  called  him  accordingly  “ one  pound 
two.”  He  possessed,  however,  a fine  eye,  and  by  no  means 
an  ugly  countenance,  a great  deal  of  middling  intellect, 
a shrill,  full,  good  bar  voice,  great  quickness  at  cross  examina- 
tion, with  sufficient  adroitness  at  defence,  and  in  Ireland 


3°8 


Barrington’s  recollections. 


was  the  very  staff  and  standing-dish  of  the  criminal  juris- 
dictions. In  a word,  M‘Nally  was  a good-natured,  hospit- 
able, talented,  dirty  fellow,  and  had  by  the  latter  qualification 
so  disgusted  the  circuit  bar  that  they  refused  to  receive  him 
at  their  mess,  a cruelty  I set  my  face  against,  and  every 
summer  circuit  endeavoured  to  vote  him  into  the  mess, 
but  always  ineffectually,  his  neglect  of  his  person,  the  shrill- 
ness of  his  voice,  and  his  frequenting  low  company  being 
assigned  as  reasons  which  never  could  be  set  aside. 

M‘Nally  had  done  something  in  the  great  cause  of  Napper 
and  Dutton,  which  brought  him  into  still  further  disrepute 
with  the  bar.  Anxious  to  regain  his  station  by  some  act 
equalising  him  with  his  brethren,  he  determined  to  offend  or 
challenge  some  of  the  most  respectable  members  of  the 
profession,  who,  however,  shewed  no  inclination  to  oblige 
him  in  that  way.  He  first  tried  his  hand  with  Counsellor 
Henry  Deane  Grady,  a veteran,  but  who  upon  this  occasion 
refused  the  combat.  M‘Nally,  who  was  as  intrepid  as 
possible,  by  no  means  despaired  ; he  was  so  obliging  as  to 
honour  me  with  the  next  chance,  and  in  furtherance  thereof, 
on  very  little  provocation,  gave  me  the  retort  not  courteous  in 
the  court  of  King’s  Bench. 

I was  well  aware  of  his  object,  and  not  feeling  very  com- 
fortable under  the  insult,  told  him,  taking  out  my  watch, 

“ M‘Nally,  you  shall  meet  me  in  the  park  in  an  hour.”  j 

The  little  fellow’s  eyes  sparkled  with  pleasure  at  the 
invitation,  and  he  instantly  replied,  “ In  half  an  hour , if  you 
please,”  comparing  at  the  same  moment  his  watch  with 
mine.  “ I hope  you  won’t  disappoint  me,”  continued  he, 

“ as  that — Grady  did.” 

“ Never  fear,  Mac,”  answered  I ; “ there’s  not  a gentle- 
man at  the  bar  but  will  fight  you  to-morrow , provided  you 
live  so  long,  which  I can’t  promise.” 

We  had  no  time  to  spare,  so  parted  to  get  ready.  The 
first  man  I met  was  Mr.  Henry  Harding,  a huge,  wicked, 


DUELLING  EXTRAORDINARY. 


309 


fighting  King’s  County  attorney.  I asked  him  to  come  out 
with  me.  To  him  it  was  fine  sport.  I also  summoned  Rice 
Gibbon,  a surgeon,  who,  being  the  most  ostentatious  fellow 
imaginable,  brought  an  immense  bag  of  surgical  instruments, 
etc.,  from  Mercer’s  Hospital.  In  forty-five  minutes  we  were 
regularly  posted  in  the  middle  of  the  review  ground  in  the 
Phoenix  Park  ; and  the  whole  scene  to  any  person  not  so 
seriously  implicated  must  have  been  irresistibly  ludicrous. 
The  sun  shone  brightly,  and  Surgeon  Gibbon,  to  lose  no 
time  in  case  of  a hit,  spread  out  all  his  polished  instruments 
on  the  grass,  glittering  in  the  light  on  one  side  of  me.  My 
second  having  stepped  nine  paces,  then  stood  at  the  other 
side,  handed  me  a case  of  pistols,  and  desired  me  to  “ work 
away  by  J — s.”  M‘Nally  stood  before  me,  very  like  a 
beer-barrel  on  its  stilling,  and  by  his  side  were  ranged  three 
unfortunate  barristers,  who  were  all  soon  afterwards  hanged 
and  beheaded  for  high  treason — namely,  John  Sheers,  who 
was  his  second,  and  had  given  him  his  point-blanks , with 
Henry  Sheers  and  Bagenal  Harvey,  who  came  as  amateurs. 
Both  of  the  latter,  I believe,  were  amicably  disposed,  but  a 
negotiation  could  not  be  admitted,  and  to  it  we  went. 
M‘Nally  presented  so  coolly  that  I could  plainly  see  I had 
but  little  chance  of  being  missed,  so  I thought  it  best  to  lose 
no  time  on  my  part.  The  poor  fellow  staggered,  and  cried 
out,  “ I am  hit  ! ” and  I found  some  twitch  myself  at  the 
moment  which  I could  not  at  the  time  account  for.  Never 
did  I experience  so  miserable  a feeling.  He  had  received 
my  ball  directly  in  the  curtain  of  his  side.  My  doctor 
rushed  at  him  with  the  zeal  and  activity  of  a dissecting 
.surgeon,  and  in  one  moment,  with  a long  knife,  which  he 
thrust  into  his  waist-band,  ripped  up  his  clothes,  and  exposed 
his  naked  carcass  to  the  bright  sun. 

The  ball  appeared  to  have  hit  the  buckle  of  his  gallows 
(yclept  suspenders),  by  which  it  had  been  partially  impeded, 
and  had  turned  round  instead  of  entering  his  body.  Whilst 


310 


Barrington’s  recollections. 


I was  still  in  dread  as  to  the  result,  my  second,  after  seeing 
that  he  had  been  so  far  protected  by  the  suspenders,  in- 
humanly exclaimed,  “By  J s,  Mac  ! you  are  the  only 

rogue  I ever  knew  that  was  saved  by  the  gallows .” 

On  returning  home,  I found  I had  not  got  off  quite  so 
well  as  I had  thought  ; the  skirt  of  my  coat  was  perforated 
on  both  sides,  and  a scratch,  just  enough  to  break  the  skin, 
had  taken  place  on  both  my  thighs.  I did  not  know  this 
whilst  on  the  ground,  but  it  accounts  for  the  twitch  I spoke 
of. 

My  opponent  soon  recovered,  and  after  the  precedent  of 
being  wounded  by  a King’s  Counsel,  no  barrister  could 
afterwards  decently  refuse  to  give  him  satisfaction.  He 
was,  therefore,  no  longer  insulted,  and  the  poor  fellow  has 
often  told  me  since  that  my  shot  was  his  salvation.  He 
subsequently  got  Curran  to  bring  us  together  at  his  house, 
and  a more  zealous  friendly  partisan  I never  had  than 
M‘Nally  proved  himself  on  my  contest  for  the  city  of 
Dublin. 

Leonard  was  a great  poetaster  ; and  having  fallen  in  love 
with  a Miss  Janson,  daughter  of  a very  rich  attorney,  of 
Bedford  Row,  London,  he  wrote  on  her  the  celebrated  song 
of  “ The  Lass  of  Richmond  Hill  ” — her  father  had  a lodge 
there.  She  could  not  withstand  this,  and  returned  his 
flame.  This  young  lady  was  absolutely  beautiful,  but  quite 
a slattern  in  her  person.  She  likewise  had  a turn  for  versi- 
fying, and  was,  therefore,  altogether  well  adapted  to  her  lame 
lover,  particularly  as  she  never  could  spare  time  from  her 
poetry  to  wash  her  hands — a circumstance  in  which  M‘Nally 
was  sympathetic.  The  father,  however,  notwithstanding  all 
this,  refused  his  consent  ; and,  consequently,  McNally  took 
advantage  of  his  dramatic  knowledge  by  adopting  the 
precedent  of  Barnaby  Brittle,  and  bribed  a barber  to  lather 
old  Janson ’s  eyes  as  well  as  his  chin , and  with  something 
rather  sharper  too  than  Windsor  soap.  Slipping  out  of  the 


DUELLING  EXTRAORDINARY. 


311 


room  whilst  her  father  was  getting  rid  of  the  lather  and  the 
smart,  this  Sappho,  with  her  limping  Phaon,  escaped,  and 
were  united  in  the  holy  bands  of  matrimony  the  same 
evening  ; and  she  continued  making  and  M‘Nally  correcting 
verses,  till  it  pleased  God  to  call  them  away.  This  curious 
couple  conducted  themselves,  both  generally  and  towards 
each  other,  extremely  well  after  their  union.  Old  Janson 
partly  forgave  them,  and  made  some  settlement  upon  their 
children. 

The  ancient  mode  of  duelling  in  Ireland  was  generally  on 
horseback.  The  combatants  were  to  gallop  past  each  other 
at  a distance  marked  out  by  posts,  which  prevented  a nearer 
approach  ; they  were  at  liberty  to  fire  at  any  time  from  the 
commencement  to  the  end  of  their  course  ; but  it  must  be 
at  a hand-gallop  ; their  pistols  were  previously  charged  alike 
with  a certain  number  of  balls,  slugs,  or  whatever  was  most 
convenient,  as  agreed  upon. 

There  had  been  from  time  immemorial  a spot  marked 
out  on  level  ground  near  the  Down  of  Clapook,  Queen’s 
County,  on  the  estate  of  my  granduncle,  Sir  John  Byrne, 
which  I have  often  visited  as  classic  ground.  It  was  beauti- 
fully situated  near  Stradbally,  and  here,  according  to  tradi- 
tion and  legendary  tales,  the  old  captains  and  chief  tans 
used  to  meet  and  decide  their  differences.  Often  did  I 
walk  it  over,  measuring  its  dimensions  step  by  step.  The 
bounds  of  it  are  still  palpable,  about  sixty  or  seventy  steps 
long,  and  about  thirty  or  forty  wide  ; large  stones  remain  on 
the  spot  where,  I suppose,  the  posts  originally  stood  to 
divide  the  combatants,  which  posts  were  about  eight  or  nine 
yards  asunder,  being  the  nearest  point  from  which  they  were 
to  fire.  The  time  of  firing  was  voluntary,  so  as  it  occurred 
during  their  course,  and,  as  before  stated,  in  a hand-gallop. 
If  the  quarrel  was  not  terminated  in  one  course,  the  combat- 
ants proceeded  to  a second  ; and  if  it  was  decided  to  go  on 
after  their  pistols  had  been  discharged,  they  then  either 


312 


Barrington’s  recollections 


finished  with  short  broadswords  on  horseback  or  with  small 
swords  on  foot  ; but  the  tradition  ran  that  when  they  fought 
with  small  swords,  they  always  adjourned  to  the  rock  of 
Donamese,  the  ancient  fortress  of  the  O’Moors  and  the 
Princes  of  Offaly.  This  is  the  most  beautiful  of  the  inland 
ruins  I have  seen  in  Ireland.  There,  in  the  centre  of  the 
old  fort,  on  a flat,  green  sod,  are  still  visible  the  deep  inden- 
tures of  the  feet  both  of  principals  who  have  fought  with 
small  rapiers  and  their  seconds  ; every  modern  visitor 
naturally  stepping  into  the  same  marks,  the  indentures  are 
consequently  kept  up,  and  it  is  probable  that  they  will  be 
deeper  one  hundred  years  hence  than  they  were  a year  ago. 

My  grandfather,  Colonel  Jonah  Barrington,  of  Cullenagh- 
more,  had  a great  passion  for  hearing  and  telling  stories  as 
to  old  events,  and  particularly  as  to  duels  and  battles  fought 
in  his  own  neighbourhood  or  by  his  relatives  ; and  as  these 
were  just  adapted  to  make  impression  on  a very  young 
curious  mind  like  mine,  at  the  moment  nearly  a carte  blanche 
(the  Arabian  Nights , for  instance,  read  by  a child  are  never 
forgotten  by  him),  I remember,  as  if  they  were  told  yester- 
day, many  of  his  recitals  and  traditionary  tales,  particularly 
those  he  could  himself  attest  ; and  his  face  bore,  to  the  day 
of  his  death,  ample  proof  that  he  had  not  been  idle  amongst 
the  combatants  of  his  own  era.  The  battle  I remember 
best,  because  I heard  it  oftenest  and  through  a variety  of 
channels,  was  one  of  my  grandfather’s  about  the  year  1759. 
He  and  a Mr.  Gilbert  had  an  irreconcilable  grudge  ; I 
forget  the  cause,  but  I believe  it  was  a very  silly  one.  It 
increased,  however,  every  day,  and  the  relatives  of  both 
parties  found  it  must  inevitably  end  in  a combat,  which, 
were  it  postponed  till  the  sons  of  each  grew  up,  might  be 
enlarged  perhaps  from  an  individual  into  a regular  family 
engagement.  It  was,  therefore,  thought  better  that  the 
business  should  be  ended  at  once,  and  it  was  decided  that 
they  should  light  on  horseback  on  the  green  of  Mary- 


DUELLING  EXTRAORDINARY. 


3*3 


borough  ; that  the  ground  should  be  one  hundred  yards  of 
race  and  eight  of  distance  ; the  weapons  of  each,  two  holster 
pistols,  a broad-bladed  but  not  very  long  sword — I have  often 
seen  my  grandfather’s,  with  basket  handle,  and  a skeen  or 
long  broad-bladed  dagger  ; the  pistols  to  be  charged  with 
one  ball  and  swan-drops. 

The  entire  country  for  miles  round  attended  to  see  the 
combat,  which  had  been  six  months  settled  and  publicly 
announced,  and  the  county  trumpeter  who  attended  the 
judges  at  the  assizes  was  on  the  ground.  My  grandfather’s 
second  was  a Mr.  Lewis  Moore,  of  Cremorgan,  whom  I well 
recollect  ; Gilbert’s  was  one  of  his  own  name  and  family — • 
a captain  of  cavalry. 

All  due  preliminaries  being  arranged,  the  country  collected 
and  placed  as  at  a horse-race,  and  the  ground  kept  free  by 
the  gamekeepers  and  huntsmen  mounted,  the  combatants 
started  and  galloped  towards  each  other.  Both  fired  before 
they  reached  the  nearest  spot,  and  missed.  The  second 
course  was  not  so  lucky.  My  grandfather  received  many  of 
Gilbert’s  shot  full  in  his  face  ; the  swan-drops  penetrated  no 
deeper  than  his  temple  and  cheek-bones  ; the  large  bullet 
fortunately  passed  him.  The  wounds,  not  being  dangerous, 
only  enraged  old  Jonah  Barrington,  and  the  other  being 
equally  willing  to  continue  the  conflict,  a fierce  battle 
hand  to  hand  ensued  ; but  I should  think  they  did  not  close 
too  nearly,  or  how  could  they  have  escaped  with  life  ? 

My  grandfather  got  three  cuts,  which  he  used  to  exhibit 
with  great  glee — one  on  the  thick  of  the  right  arm,  a second 
on  his  bridle-arm,  and  the  third  on  the  inside  of  the  left 
hand.  His  hat,  which  he  kept  to  the  day  of  his  death,  was 
also  sliced  in  several  places  ; but  both  had  iron  skull-caps 
under  their  hats,  which  probably  saved  their  brains  from 
remaining  upon  the  green  of  Maryborough. 

Gilbert  had  received  two  pokes  from  my  grandfather  on 
his  thigh  and  his  side,  but  neither  dangerous.  I fancy  he 


314  Barrington's  recollections. 

had  the  better  of  the  battle,  being  as  strong  as  and  less  irri- 
table than  my  grandfather,  who,  I suspect,  grew  towards  the 
last  a little  ticklish  on  the  subject  ; for  he  rushed  headlong 
at  Gilbert,  and  instead  of  striking  at  his  person,  thrust  his 
broadsword  into  the  horse's  body  as  often  as  he  could,  until 
the  beast  dropped  with  his  rider  underneath  him  ; my  grand- 
father then  leaped  off  his  horse,  threw  away  his  sword,  and 
putting  his  skeen  or  broad  dagger  to  the  throat  of  Gilbert, 
told  him  to  ask  his  life  or  die,  as  he  must  do  either  one  or 
the  other  in  half  a minute.  Gilbert  said  he  would  ask  his 
life  only  upon  the  terms  that,  without  apology  or  conversa- 
tion, they  should  shake  hands  heartily  and  be  future  friends 
and  companions,  and  not  leave  the  youths  of  two  old  families 
to  revenge  their  quarrel  by  slaughtering  each  other.  These 
terms  being  quite  agreeable  to  my  grandfather,  as  they 
breathed  good  sense,  intrepidity,  and  good  heart,  he 
acquiesced,  and  from  that  time  they  were  the  most  inti- 
mately attached  and  joyous  friends  and  companions  of  the 
county  they  resided  in. 

My  grandfather  afterwards  fought  at  Clapook  a Mr. 
Fitzgerald,  who  was  badly  shot.  On  this  occasion  old 
Gilbert  was  my  grandfather’s  second.  I remember  well 
seeing  him,  as  I do  also  the  late  chief  justice,  then  Serjeant 
Pattison,  who  had  come  down  to  Cullenaghmore  to  visit 
my  grandfather,  and,  as  I afterwards  discovered,  to  cheat 
him.  Gilbert  brought  me  a great  many  sweet  things  ; 
and  I heard  that  evening  so  many  stories  of  fights  at  Clapook, 
and  on  the  ridge  of  Maryborough,  that  I never  forgot  them. 


HAMILTON  ROWAN  AND  THE  BAR. 


3*5 


CHAPTER  XXXVII. 

HAMILTON  ROWAN  AND  THE  BAR. 

There  were  few  persons  whose  history  was  connected  with 
that  of  Ireland  during  my  time,  who  excited  my  interest  in 
a greater  degree  than  Mr.  Hamilton  Rowan.  The  dark 
points  of  this  gentleman’s  character  have  been  assiduously 
exhibited  by  persons  who  knew  little  or  nothing  of  his  life, 
and  that,  too,  long  after  he  had  ceased  to  be  an  obnoxious 
character.  I will  endeavour  to  shew  the  obverse  of  the 
medal  ; and  I claim  the  meed  of  perfect  disinterestedness, 
which  will,  I think,  be  awarded,  when  I state  that 
I never  had  the  least  social  intercourse  with  Mr.  Rowran, 
whose  line  of  politics  was  always  decidedly  opposed  to 
my  own. 

Archibald  Hamilton  Rowan,  I believe  he  still  lives,  is  a 
gentleman  of  most  respectable  family  and  of  ample  fortune  ; 
considered  merely  as  a private  character,  I fancy  there  are 
few  who  will  not  give  him  full  credit  for  every  quality  which 
does  honour  to  that  station  in  society.  As  a philanthropist 
he  certainly  carried  his  ideas  even  beyond  reason,  and  to  a 
degree  of  excess  which  I really  think  laid  in  his  mind  the 
foundation  of  all  his  enthusiastic  proceedings,  both  in 
common  life  and  in  politics. 

The  first  interview  I had  with  this  gentleman  did  not 
occupy  more  than  a few  minutes  ; but  it  was  of  a most 
impressive  nature,  and  though  now  eight-and-thirty  years 
back,  appears  as  fresh  to  my  eye  as  if  it  took  place  yesterday  ; 
in  truth,  I believe  it  must  be  equally  present  to  every 
individual  of  the  company  who  survives,  and  is  not  too  old 
to  remember  anything. 


3 16  Barrington’s  recollections. 

There  is  generally  in  every  metropolis  some  temporary 
incident  which  serves  as  a common  subject  of  conversation — 
something  which  nominally  excites  interest,  but  which  in 
fact  nobody  cares  a sou  about,  though  for  the  day  it  sells 
all  the  newspapers,  and  gives  employment  to  every  tongue, 
till  some  new  occurrence  happens  to  work  up  curiosity  and 
change  the  topic. 

In  1788,  a very  young  girl,  of  the  name  of  Mary  Neil,  had 
been  ill-treated  by  a person  unknown,  aided  by  a woman. 
The  late  Lord  Carhampton  was  supposed  to  be  the  trans- 
gressor, but  without  any  proof  whatsoever  of  his  lordship’s 
culpability.  The  humour  of  Hamilton  Rowan,  which  had 
a sort  of  Quixotic  tendency  to  resist  all  oppression  and  to 
redress  every  species  of  wrong,  led  him  to  take  up  the  cause 
of  Mary  Neil  with  a zeal  and  enthusiastic  perseverance 
which  nobody  but  the  knight  of  La  Mancha  could  have 
exceeded.  Day  and  night  the  ill-treatment  of  this  girl  was 
the  subiect  of  his  thoughts,  his  actions,  his  dreams  ; he  even 
went  about  preaching  a kind  of  crusade  in  her  favour,  and 
succeeded  in  gaining  a great  many  partisans  among  the 
citizens  ; and,  in  short,  he  eventually  obtained  a conviction 
of  the  woman  as  accessory  to  a crime,  the  perpetrator 
whereof  remained  undiscovered,  and  she  accordingly 
received  sentence  of  death.  Still  Mary  Neil  was  not  bettered 
by  this  conviction  ; she  was  utterly  unprovided  for,  had 
suffered  much,  and  seemed  quite  wretched.  Yet  there 
were  not  wanting  persons  who  doubted  her  truth,  decried 
her  former  character,  and  represented  her  story  as  that  of 
an  imposter  ; this  not  only  hurt  the  feelings  and  philan- 
thropy, but  the  pride  of  Hamilton  Rowan  ; and  he  vowed 
personal  vengeance  against  all  her  calumniators,  high  and  low. 

At  this  time  about  twenty  young  barristers,  including 
myself,  had  formed  a dinner  club  in  Dublin.  We  had 
taken  large  apartments  for  the  purpose,  and,  as  we  were 
not  yet  troubled  with  too  much  business,  were  in  the  habit 


HAMILTON  ROWAN  AND  THE  BAR.  317 

of  faring  luxuriously  every  day,  and  taking  a bottle  of  the 
best  claret  which  could  be  obtained.* 

There  never  existed  a more  cheerful  nor  half  so  cheap  a 
dinner  club.  One  day,  whilst  dining  with  our  usual  hilarity, 
the  servant  informed  us  that  a gentleman  below  stairs  desired 
to  be  admitted  for  a moment.  We  considered  it  to  be  some 
brother  barrister  who  requested  permission  to  join  our  party, 
and  desired  him  to  be  shewn  up.  What  was  our  surprise, 
however,  on  perceiving  the  figure  that  presented  itself  ! — a 
man  who  might  have  served  as  model  for  a Hercules,  his 
gigantic  limbs  conveying  the  idea  of  almost  supernatural 
strength  ; his  shoulders,  arms,  and  broad  chest  were  the  very 
emblems  of  muscular  energy,  and  his  flat,  rough  counte- 
nance, overshadowed  by  enormous  dark  eyebrows,  and 
deeply  furrowed  by  strong  lines  of  vigour  and  fortitude, 
completed  one  of  the  finest,  yet  most  formidable,  figures 
I had  ever  beheld.  He  was  very  well  dressed  ; close  by  his 
side  stalked  in  a shaggy  Newfoundland  dog  of  corresponding 
magnitude,  with  hair  a foot  long,  and  who,  if  he  should  be 
voraciously  inclined,  seemed  well  able  to  devour  a barrister 
or  two  without  overcharging  his  stomach.  As  he  entered, 
indeed,  he  alternately  looked  at  us  and  then  up  at  his  master, 
as  if  only  awaiting  the  orders  of  the  latter  to  commence  the 
onslaught.  His  master  held  in  his  hand  a large,  yellow, 
knotted  club,  slung  by  a leathern  thong  round  his  great 
wrist  ; he  had  also  a long  small-sword  by  his  side. 

This  apparition  walked  deliberately  up  to  the  table,  and  hav- 
ing made  his  obeisance  with  seeming  courtesy,  a short  pause 
ensued,  during  which  he  looked  round  on  all  the  company 
with  an  aspect,  if  not  stern,  yet  ill-calculated  to  set  our  minds 
at  ease  either  as  to  his  or  his  dog’s  ulterior  intentions. 

* One  of  us.  Counsellor  Townley  Fitgate,  afterwards  chairman  of 
Wicklow  County,  having  a pleasure  cutter  of  his  own  in  the  harbour 
of  Dublin,  used  to  send  her  to  smuggle  claret  for  us  from  the  Isle  of 
Man  ; he  made  a friend  of  one  of  the  tide-waiters,  and  we  consequently 
had  the  very  best  wines  on  the  cheapest  possible  terms. 


3 18  BARRINGTON’S  RECOLLECTIONS. 

“ Gentlemen  ! ” at  length  he  said,  in  a tone  and  with  an 
air  at  once  so  mild  and  courteous,  nay,  so  polished,  as  fairly 
to  give  the  lie,  as  it  were,  to  his  gigantic  and  threatening 
figure  ; “ Gentlemen  ! I have  heard  with  very  great  regret 
that  some  members  of  this  club  have  been  so  indiscreet  as 
to  calumniate  the  character  of  Mary  Neil,  which,  from  the 
part  I have  taken,  I feel  identified  with  my  own.  If  any 
present  has  done  so,  I doubt  not  he  will  now  have  the 
candour  and  courage  to  avow  it.  Who  avows  it  ? ” The 
dog  looked  up  at  him  again  ; he  returned  the  glance,  but 
contented  himself  for  the  present  with  patting  the  animal’s 
head,  and  was  silent ; so  were  we. 

The  extreme  surprise,  indeed,  with  which  our  party  was 
seized,  bordering  almost  on  consternation,  rendered  all  con- 
sultation as  to  a reply  out  of  the  question,  and  never  did  I 
see  the  old  axiom  that  “ what  is  everybody’s  business  is 
nobody’s  business  ” more  thoroughly  exemplified.  A few  of 
the  company  whispered  each  his  neighbour,  and  I perceived 
one  or  two  steal  a fruit-knife  under  the  table-cloth,  in  case 
of  extremities,  but  no  one  made  any  reply.  We  were 
eighteen  in  number,  and  as  neither  would  or  could  answer 
for  the  others,  it  would  require  eighteen  replies  to  satisfy  the 
giant’s  single  query,  and  I fancy  some  of  us  could  not  have 
replied  to  his  satisfaction,  and  stuck  to  the  truth  into  the 
bargain.  , 

He  repeated  his  demand,  elevating  his  tone  each  time, 
thrice  : “ Does  any  gentleman  avow  it  ? ” A faint  buzz 
now  circulated  round  the  room,  but  there  was  no  answer 
whatsoever.  Communication  was  cut  off,  and  there  was  a 
dead  silence.  At  length  our  visitor  said  with  a loud  voice 
that  he  must  suppose  if  any  gentleman  had  made  any  obser- 
vations or  assertions  against  Mary  Neil’s  character,  he 
would  have  had  the  courage  and  spirit  to  avow  it ; “ there- 
fore,” continued  he,  “ I shall  take  it  for  granted  that  my 
information  was  erroneous,  and,  in  that  point  of  view,  I regret 


HAMILTON  ROWAN  AND  THE  BAR.  319 

having  alavtned  your  society/’  And  without  another  word 
he  bowed  three  times  very  low,  and  retired  backwards 
toward  the  door,  his  dog  also  backing  out  with  equal  polite- 
ness, where,  with  a salaam  doubly  ceremonious,  Mr.  Rowan 
ended  this  extraordinary  interview.  On  the  first  of  his 
departing  bows,  by  a simultaneous  impulse,  we  all  rose 
and  returned  his  salute,  almost  touching  the  table  with  our 
noses,  but  still  in  profound  silence,  which  bowing  on  both 
sides  was  repeated,  as  I have  said,  till  he  was  fairly  out  of 
the  room.  Three  or  four  of  the  company  then  ran  hastily 
to  the  window  to  be  sure  that  he  and  the  dog  were  clear  off 
into  the  street  ; and  no  sooner  had  this  satisfactory 
denouement  been  ascertained  than  a general  roar  of  laughter 
ensued,  and  we  talked  it  over  in  a hundred  different  ways. 
The  whole  of  our  arguments,  however,  turned  upon  the 
question,  “ Which  had  behaved  the  politest  upon  the 
occasion  ? ” but  not  one  word  was  uttered  as  to  which  had 
behaved  the  stoutest . 

This  spirit  of  false  chivalry  which  took  such  entire 
possession  of  Hamilton  Rowan’s  understanding  was  soon 
diverted  into  the  channels  of  political  theory,  and  from  the 
discussion  of  general  politics  he  advanced  to  the  contempla- 
tion of  sedition.  His  career  in  this  respect  was  short  ; he 
was  tried  and  convicted  of  circulating  a factious  paper,  and 
sentenced  to  a heavy  fine  and  a long  imprisonment,  during 
which  political  charges  of  a much  more  serious  nature  were 
arrayed  against  him.  He  fortunately  escaped  from  prison 
to  the  house  of  Mr.  Evans,  of  Portrenne,  near  Dublin,  and 
got  off  in  a fishing-boat  to  France,  where,  after  numerous 
dangers,  he  at  length  arrived  safely.  Rowan  subsequently 
resided  some  years  in  America,  in  which  country  he  had 
leisure  for  reflection,  and  saw  plainly  the  folly  and  mischief 
of  his  former  conduct.  The  Government  found  that  his 
contrition  was  sincere  ; he  eventually  received  His  Majesty’s 
free  pardon,  and  I have  since  seen  him  and  his  family  at  the 


320 


Barrington’s  recollections. 


Castle  drawing-rooms  in  dresses  singularly  splendid,  where 
they  were  well  received  by  the  Viceroy  and  by  m:;ny  of  the 
nobility  and  gentry  ; and  people  should  consider  that  His 
Majesty’s  free  pardon  for  political  offences  is  always  meant 
to  wipe  azvay  every  injurious  feeling  from  his  subjects’ 
recollection. 

The  mention  of  Mr.  Rowan  reminds  me  of  an  anecdote  of 
a singular  nature,  extremely  affecting,  and  which  at  the  time 
was  the  subject  of  much  conversation  ; and  as  a connection 
was  alleged  to  exist  between  him  and  the  unfortunate  gentle- 
man to  whom  it  relates,  which  connection  had  nearly  proved 
fatal  to  Mr.  Rowan,  I consider  this  not  an  inappropriate 
place  to  allude  to  the  circumstance. 

Mr.  Jackson,  an  English  clergyman  who  had  come  over 
to  assist  in  organising  a revolution  in  Ireland,  had  been 
arrested  in  that  country,  tried,  and  found  guilty  of  high 
treason  in  corresponding  with  the  enemy  in  France.  I was 
in  court  when  Mr.  Jackson  was  brought  up  to  receive 
sentence  of  death  ; and  I believe  whoever  was  present  must 
recollect  it  as  one  of  the  most  touching  and  uncommon 
scenes  which  appeared  during  that  eventful  period. 

He  was  conducted  into  the  usual  place  where  prisoners 
stand  to  receive  sentence.  He  was  obviously  much  affected 
as  he  entered  ; his  limbs  seemed  to  totter,  and  large  drops 
of  perspiration  rolled  down  his  face.  He  was  supposed  to 
fear  death , and  to  be  in  great  terror.  The  judge  began  the 
usual  admonition  before  he  pronounced  sentence  ; the 
prisoner  seemed  to  regard  it  but  little,  appearing  abstracted 
by  internal  agony.  This  was  still  attributed  to  apprehen- 
sion ; he  covered  his  face,  and  seemed  sinking  ; the  judge 
paused,  the  crowd  evinced  surprise,  and  the  sheriff,  on 
examination,  declared  the  prisoner  was  too  ill  to  hear  his 
sentence.  Meanwhile,  the  wretched  culprit  continued  to 
droop,  and  at  length  his  limbs  giving  way,  he  fell  ! A 
visitation  so  unexampled  created  a great  sensation  in  the 


HAMILTON  ROWAN  AND  THE  BAR. 


321 


court  ; a physician  was  immediately  summoned,  but  too 
late  ; Jackson  had  eluded  his  denouncers,  and  was  no  more. 

It  was  discovered  that  previous  to  his  coming  into  court 
he  had  taken  a large  quantity  of  arsenic  and  aquafortis 
mixed  in  tea.  No  judgment,  of  course,  was  pronounced 
against  him.  He  had  a splendid  funeral  ; and  to  the 
astonishment  of  Dublin  it  was  attended  by  several  members 
of  parliament  and  barristers  ! — Mr.  Tighe  and  Counsellor 
Richard  Guinness  were  amongst  them. 

It  is  worthy  of  observation  that  I was  always  on  friendly, 
nay  intimate,  terms  with  many  leading  persons  of  the  two 
most  hostile  and  intolerant  political  bodies  that  could 
possibly  exist  together  in  one  country  ; and  in  the  midst  of 
the  most  tumultuous  and  bloody  scenes,  I did  not  find  that 
I had  one  enemy.  It  is  singular,  but  true,  that  my  attach- 
ment to  the  Government,  and  my  activity  in  support  of  it, 
yet  placed  me  in  no  danger  from  its  inveterate  enemies  ; 
and  in  several  instances  I was  sought  as  mediator  between 
the  rebels  and  Lord  Kilwarden,  then  attorney-general,*  of 
whom,  now  he  is  no  more,  it  is  but  justice  to  say,  that  of  all 
the  law  officers  and  official  servants  of  the  Crown  I ever  had 
communication  with,  the  most  kind-hearted,  clement,  and 
honourable  was  one  whose  manners  and  whose  name 
conveyed  a very  different  reputation.  I know  that  he  had 
been  solicited  to  take  some  harsh  measures  as  to  the  barristers 
who  attended  Jackson’s  funeral  ; and  though  he  might  have 
been  justified  in  doing  so,  he  said  “ that  both  the  honour 
of  his  profession  and  the  feelings  of  his  own  mind  prevented 
him  from  giving  publicity  to  or  stamping  as  a crime  what  he 
was  sure  in  its  nature  could  only  be  inadvertency  ” 

* He  was  at  that  time  Mr.  Wolfe.  An  information  ex-officio  had  been 
filed  against  a printer  in  Cork  for  a seditious  newspaper  ; it  turned  out 
that  the  two  Counsellor  Sheers  were  the  real  editors.  They  begged  of 
me  to  mediate  with  the  attorney -general.  He  had  always  a strong  feel- 
ing for  the  honour  and  character  of  his  profession,  and  forgave  all 
parties  on  conditions  which  I all  but  vouched  for}  but  to  which  they 
certainly  did  not  adhere. 

(D  311)* 


Y 


322 


Barrington’s  recollections. 


CHAPTER  XXXVIII. 

FATHER  O’LEARY. 

I frequently  had  an  opportunity  of  meeting  at  my  father- 
in-law’s,  Mr.  Grogan’s,  where  he  often  dined,  a most  worthy 
priest,  Father  O’Leary,  and  have  listened  frequently  with 
great  zest  to  anecdotes  which  he  used  to  tell  with  a quaint 
yet  spirited  humour  quite  unique.  His  manner,  his  air,  his 
countenance,  all  bespoke  wit,  talent,  and  a good  heart.  I 
liked  his  company  excessively,  and  have  often  regretted  I 
did  not  cultivate  his  acquaintance  more,  or  recollect  his 
witticisms  better.  It  was  singular,  but  it  was  fact,  that  even 
before  Father  O’Leary  opened  his  lips,  a stranger  would  say, 
“ That  is  an  Irishman,”  and  at  the  same  time  guess  him  to 
be  a priest. 

One  anecdote  in  particular  I remember.  Coming  from 
St.  Omer,  he  told  us  he  stopped  a few  days  to  visit  a brother 
priest  in  the  town  of  Boulogne-sur-Mer.  Here  he  heard 
of  a great  curiosity  which  all  the  people  were  running 
to  see — a curious  bear  that  some  fishermen  had  taken  at  sea 
out  of  a wreck  ; it  had  sense,  and  attempted  to  utter  a sort 
of  lingo  which  they  called  patois , but  which  nobody  under- 
stood. 

O’Leary  gave  his  six  sous  to  see  the  wonder  which  was 
shewn  at  the  port  by  candlelight,  and  was  a very  odd  kind 
of  animal,  no  doubt.  The  bear  had  been  taught  a hundred 
tricks,  all  to  be  performed  at  the  keeper’s  word  of  command. 
It  was  late  in  the  evening  when  O’Leary  saw  him,  and  the 
bear  seemed  sulky  ; the  keeper,  however,  with  a short  spike 
at  the  end  of  a pole  made  him  move  about  briskly.  He 
marked  on  sand  what  o’clock  it  was  with  his  paw,  and  dis- 
tinguished the  men  and  women  in  a very  comical  way  ; in 


FATHER  O’LEARY. 


323 


fact,  our  priest  was  quite  diverted.  The  beast  at  length 
grew  tired,  the  keeper  hit  him  with  the  pole,  he  stirred  a 
little,  but  continued  quite  sullen  ; his  master  coaxed  him — 
no,  he  would  not  work  ! At  length  the  brute  of  a keeper  gave 
him  two  or  three  sharp  pricks  with  the  goad,  when  he  roared 
out  most  tremendously,  and  rising  on  his  hind  legs,  swore 
at  his  tormentor  in  very  good  native  Irish.  O’Leary  waited 
no  longer,  but  went  immediately  to  the  mayor,  whom  he 
informed  that  the  blackguards  of  fishermen  had  sewed  up  a 
poor  Irishman  in  a bear-skin,  and  were  shewing  him  for  six 
sous  ! The  civic  dignitary,  who  had  himself  seen  the  bear, 
would  not  believe  our  friend  ; at  last  O’Leary  prevailed  on 
him  to  accompany  him  to  the  room.  On  their  arrival  the 
bear  was  still  upon  duty  ; and  O’Leary,  stepping  up  to  him, 
says,  “Cionnas  ta  tu  a Phaid  ? ” (How  do  you  do,  Pat  ?) 
“ Sian  go  raibh , maith  agat ,”  (Pretty  well,  thank’ee),  says  the 
bear.  The  people  were  surprised  to  hear  how  plainly  he 
spoke  ; but  the  mayor  directly  ordered  him  to  be  ripped 
up  ; and  after  some  opposition  and  a good  deal  of  difficulty, 
Pat  stepped  forth,  stark  naked,  out  of  the  bear-skin,  wherein 
he  had  been  fourteen  or  fifteen  days  most  cleverly  stitched. 
The  women  made  off,  the  men  stood  astonished,  and  the 
mayor  ordered  the  keepers  to  be  put  in  gaol  unless  they 
satisfied  him  ; but  that  was  presently  done.  The  bear  after- 
wards told  O’Leary  that  he  was  very  well  fed,  and  did  not 
care  much  about  the  clothing,  only  they  worked  him  too 
hard.  The  fishermen  had  found  him  at  sea  on  a hen-coop, 
which  had  saved  him  from  going  to  the  bottom  with  a ship 
wherein  he  had  a little  venture  of  dried  cod  from  Dungarvan, 
and  which  was  bound  from  Waterford  to  Bilboa.  He 
could  not  speak  a word  af  any  language  but  Irish,  and  had 
never  been  at  sea  before.  The  fishermen  had  brought  him 
in,  fed  him  well,  and  endeavoured  to  repay  themselves  by 
shewing  him  as  a curiosity. 

O’Leary’s  mode  of  telling  this  story  was  quite  admirable. 


324 


BARRINGTON’S  RECOLLECTIONS. 


I never  heard  any  anecdote — and  I believe  this  one  to  have 
been  true — related  with  so  much  genuine  drollery,  which  was 
enhanced  by  his  not  changing  a muscle  himself  while  every 
one  of  his  hearers  was  in  a paroxysm  of  laughter. 

Another  anecdote  he  used  to  tell  with  incomparable 
dramatic  humour.  By-the-bye,  all  his  stories  were  in  some  ; 
way  national  ; and  this  gives  me  occasion  to  remark  that  I 
think  Ireland  is  at  this  moment  nearly  as  little  known  on 
many  parts  of  the  Continent  as  it  seems  to  have  been  then. 

I have  myself  heard  it  more  than  once  spoken  of  as  an 
English  town . 

At  Nancy,  where  Father  O’Leary  was  travelling,  his  native 
country  happened  to  be  mentioned  ; when  one  of  the  societe , 1 
a quiet  French  farmer,  of  Burgundy,  asked  in  an  unassum- 
ing tone,  “ If  Ireland  stood  encore  ? ” “Encore  ! ” said  an 
astonished  John  Bull,  a courier  coming  from  Germany,  j 
“encore  ! to  be  sure  she  does  ; we  have  her  yet,  I assure  you, 
Monsieur.”  “ Though  neither  very  safe  nor  very  sound,” 
interposed  an  officer  of  the  Irish  brigade,  who  happened  to 
be  present,  looking  over  significantly  at  O’Leary,  and  not 
very  complacently  at  the  courier.  “ And  pray,  Monsieur,” 
rejoined  the  John  Bull  to  the  Frenchman,  “ why  encore?” 

“ Pardon,  Monsieur,”  replied  the  Frenchman,  “ I heard  it 
had  been  worn  out  {fatigue ) long  ago  by  the  great  number 
of  people  that  were  living  in  it  ! ” 

The  fact  is,  the  Frenchman  had  been  told,  and  really 
understood,  that  Ireland  was  a large  house  where  the  English 
were  wont  to  send  their  idle  vagabonds,  and  from  whence 
they  were  drawn  out  again  as  they  were  wanted  to  fill  the 
ranks  of  the  army  ; and,  I speak  from  my  own  personal 
knowledge,  in  some  interior  parts  of  the  Continent  the 
existence  of  Ireland  as  a nation  is  totally  unknown,  or  it  is 
at  best  considered  as  about  a match  for  Jersey,  etc.  On 
the  sea  coasts  they  are  better  informed.  This  need  not 
surprise  us,  when  we  have  heard  of  a native  of  St,  Helena 


FATHER  O’LEARY. 


325 


formerly,  who  never  had  been  out  of  the  island,  who  seriously 
asked  an  English  officer  “ if  there  were  many  landing-places 
in  England  ? ” 

Some  ideas  of  the  common  Irish  are  so  strange,  and 
uttered  so  unconsciously,  that  in  the  mouths  of  any  other 
people  they  might  be  justly  considered  profane.  In  those, 
of  my  countrymen,  however,  such  expressions  are  idiomatic, 
and  certainly  spoken  without  the  least  idea  of  profanity. 

The  present  Lord  Ventry  was  considered,  before  his 
father’s  death,  the  oldest  heir-apparent  in  the  Irish  Peerage, 
to  which  his  father  had  been  raised  in  1800,  in  consequence 
of  an  arrangement  made  with  Lord  Castlereagh  at  the  time 
of  the  Union.  He  had  for  many  years  been  bed-ridden, 
and  had  advanced  to  a very  great  age  latterly  without  any 
corresponding  utility  ; yet  little  apprehensions  were  enter- 
tained of  his  speedy  dissolution. 

A tenant  on  the  estate,  the  stability  of  whose  lease 
depended  entirely  on  the  son  surviving  the  father,  and  who 
was  beginning  to  doubt  which  of  them  might  die  of  old  age 
first,  said  seriously  to  the  heir-apparent,  but  without  the 
slightest  idea  of  any  sort  of  impropriety  either  as  respected 
God  or  man  : 

“ Ah,  then,  Master  Squire  Mullins,  isn’t  it  mighty  strange 
that  my  poor  ould  landlord,  Heaven  preserve  his  noble 
lordship  ! shou’d  lie  covered  up  in  the  bed  all  this  time 
past? — I think,  plase  your  honour,  that  it  wou’d  be  well 
done  to  take  his  lordship,  Lord  bless  his  honour,  up  to  the 
tip-top  of  Croagh  Patrick,  and  hold  him  up  there  as  high  as 
could  be,  just  to  shew  his  lordship  a bit  to  the  Virgin.  For 
I’m  sure,  plase  your  honour,  if  God  Almighty  hadn’t  quite 
forgot  his  lordship,  he  would  have  taken  him  home  to 
himself  long  and  many  a day  ago.” 


326 


BARRINGTON’S  RECOLLECTIONS. 


CHAPTER  XXXIX. 

DEATH  OF  LORD  ROSSMORE. 

The  omnipotence  of  the  Deity  in  our  creation  and 
destruction — in  the  union  and  separation  of  our  bodies 
and  souls — and  in  rendering  the  latter  responsible  for  the 
acts  of  the  former,  no  Christian  denies  ; and  if  the  Deity 
be  thus  omnipotent  in  forming,  destroying,  uniting,  sepa- 
rating, and  judging,  He  must  be  equally  omnipotent  in 
reproducing  that  spirit  and  that  form  which  He  created,  and 
which  remains  subject  to  His  will,  and  always  in  His  power. 

It  follows,  therefore,  that  the  Omnipotent  Creator  may 
at  will  reproduce  that  spirit  which  He  reserves  for  future 
judgment,  or  the  semblance  of  that  body  which  once  con- 
tained the  undecaying  soul.  The  smallest  atom  which  floats 
in  the  sunbeam  cannot,  as  everybody  knows,  from  the  nature 
of  matter,  be  actually  annihilated  ; death  consequently  only 
decomposes  the  materials  whereof  our  bodies  are  formed, 
which  materials  are  obviously  susceptible  of  being  recom- 
bined. The  Christian  tenets  maintain  that  the  soul  and  body 
must  appear  for  judgment,  and  why  not  before  judgment — j 
if  so  willed  by  the  Almighty  ? The  main  argument  which  I 
have  heard  against  such  appearances  tends  nearly  as  much  to 
mislead  as  a general  disbelief  or  denial  of  Omnipotence — 
namely,  that  though  this  power  may  exist  in  the  Deity,  He 
never  would  permit  such  spectacles  on  the  earth,  to  terrify 
the  timorous,  and  give  occasion  to  paltering  with  the  cre- 
dulity of  His  creatures. 

It  is  truly  surprising  how  rational  men  can  resort  to  these 
methods  of  reasoning.  When  we  admit  the  Omnipotence, 
we  are  bound  likewise  to  admit  the  Omniscience  of  the 
Deity  ; and  presumptuous,  indeed,  must  that  man  be  who 


DEATH  OF  LORD  ROSSMORE. 


3*7 


overlooks  the  contractedness  of  his  own  intellectual  vision, 
or  asserts  that  because  he  cannot  see  a reason  for  a super- 
natural interference,  none,  therefore,  can  exist  in  the  eye  of 
the  Supreme. 

The  objects  of  God  are  inscrutable  ; an  appearance  of 
the  departed  upon  earth  may  have  consequences  which 
none — not  even  those  who  are  affected  by  it — can  either 
discover  or  suppose.  Nothing  in  print  places  my  theory 
in  so  distinct,  clear,  and  pleasing  a point  of  view  as  Parnell’s 
Hermit , a strong,  moral,  and  impressive  tale  : beautiful  in 
poetry,  and  abounding  in  instruction.  There  the  Omni- 
science of  God  is  exemplified  by  human  incidents,  and  the 
mysterious  causes  of  His  actions  brought  home  to  the 
commonest  capacity.  The  moral  of  that  short  and  simple 
tale  says  more  than  a hundred  volumes  of  dogmatic  con- 
troversies ! The  following  couplets  appear  to  me  extremely 
impressive  : 

The  Maker  justly  claims  that  world  He  made  : 

In  this  the  right  of  Providence  is  laid  : 

Its  sacred  majesty,  through  all,  depends 
On  using  second  means  to  work  its  ends. 

What  strange  events  can  strike  with  more  surprise 
Than  those  which  lately  struck  the  wondering  eyes  ? 

Yet,  taught  by  these,  confess  the  Almighty  just ; 

And  where  you  can't  unriddle , learn  to  trust. 

Can  any  human  wisdom  presume  to  divine  why  man  was 
originally  created  at  all  ? why  one  man  is  cut  short  in  high 
blooming  health  and  youth,  and  another  lingers  long  in  age 
and  decrepitude  ? why  the  best  of  men  are  frequently  the 
most  unfortunate,  and  the  greatest  villains  the  most  pros- 
perous ? why  the  heinous  criminal  escapes  in  triumph, 
and  the  innocent  being  is  destroyed  by  torture  ? And 
is  the  production  of  a supernatural  appearance,  for  the 
inscrutable  purposes  of  God,  more  extraordinary,  or  less 
credible,  than  these  other  ordinations  of  the  Deity,  or  than 
all  those  unaccountable  phenomena  of  Nature,  which  are 


328 


Barrington's  recollections. 


only,  as  the  rising  and  setting  sun,  disregarded  by  common 
minds  from  the  frequency  of  their  occurrence  ? 

This  is  a subject  whereon  I feel  strongly  and  seriously, 
and  hence  it  is  that  I have  been  led  into  so  long  an  exor- 
dium. I regard  the  belief  in  supernatural  apparitions  as 
inseparable  from  my  Christian  faith  and  my  view  of  Divine 
Omnipotence  ; and  however  good  and  learned  individuals 
may  possibly  impugn  my  reasoning,  I have  the  consolation 
of  knowing  that  the  very  best  and  wisest  doctors  in  divinity 
and  masters  of  arts  in  the  British  empire  can  have  no  better 
or  truer  information  upon  the  subject  than  myself  ; that  I 
am  as  much  in  my  senses  as  many  of  them  ; and  that  the 
Deity  has  made  no  sort  of  distinction  between  the  intel- 
lectual capacity  of  a bishop  and  a judge  ; the  secrets  of 
Heaven  are  not  divulged  to  either  of  them.  The  judge 
does  justice  to  other  people,  and  the  bishop  does  justice 
to  himself  ; both  are  equally  ignorant  of  the  mysteries  of 
futurity,  and  must  alike  wait  until  they  pass  the  dim  boun- 
dary of  the  grave  to  gain  any  practical  information.  When  a 
military  captain  is  ordained  a clergyman,  as  is  somewhat  the 
fashion  during  the  peace  establishment,  does  he  become  one 
atom  wiser  or  more  knowing  as  to  the  next  world  than  when 
he  was  in  the  army  ? Probably,  on  the  other  hand,  he 
thinks  much  less  about  the  matter  than  when  standing  upon 
the  field  of  battle. 

I would  not  have  the  reader  imagine  that  I should  be 
found  ready  to  receive  an  idle  ghost  story  which  might  be 
told  me.  So  far  contrary,  I have  always  been  of  opinion 
that  no  incident  or  appearance  (and  I have  expressed  as 
much  before  in  this  work),  however  strange,  should  be  con- 
sidered as  supernatural  which  could  anyhow  be  otherwise 
accounted  for,  or  referred  to  natural  or  human  agency. 

I will  proceed  at  once  to  the  little  narrative  thus  import- 
antly prefaced.  The  circumstances  will,  I think,  be  admitted 
as  of  an  extraordinary  nature  ; they  were  not  connected 


DEATH  OF  LORD  KOSSMORE. 


329 


with  the  workings  of  imagination — depended  not  on  the  fancy 
of  a single  individual.  The  occurrence  was  altogether,  both 
in  its  character  and  in  its  possible  application,  far  beyond  the 
speculations  of  man.  But  let  me  endeavour  to  soften  and 
prepare  my  mind  for  the  strange  recital  by  some  more 
pleasing  recollections  connected  with  the  principal  subject 
of  it. 

Immediately  after  the  rebellion  of  1798,  the  Countess 
Dowager  of  Mayo  discovered  a man  concealed  under  her 
bed,  and  was  so  terrified  that  she  instantly  fled  from  her 
country  residence  in  the  most  beautiful  part  of  County 
Wicklow  ; she  departed  for  Dublin,  whence  she  immediately 
sailed  for  England,  and  never  after  returned.  Her  ladyship 
directed  her  agent,  Mr.  Davis,  immediately  to  dispose  of  her 
residence,  demesne,  and  everything  within  the  house  and  on 
the  grounds  for  whatever  they  might  bring.  All  property  in 
the  disturbed  districts  being  then  of  small  comparative  value, 
and  there  having  been  a battle  fought  at  Mount  Kennedy, 
near  her  house,  a short  time  previous,  I purchased  the  whole 
estate  as  it  stood,  at  a very  moderate  price,  and  on  the 
ensuing  day  was  put  into  possession  of  my  new  mansion.  I 
found  a house  not  large,  but  very  neat  and  in  good  order, 
with  a considerable  quantity  of  furniture,  some  excellent 
wines,  etc.,  and  the  lands  in  full  produce.  The  demesne 
was  not  extensive,  but  delightfully  situated  in  a district 
which,  I believe,  for  the  union  of  rural  beauties  and  mild 
uniformity  of  climate,  few  spots  can  excel. 

I have  already  disclaimed  all  pretensions  as  a writer  to 
the  power  of  scenic  description  or  imaginary  landscape, 
though  no  person  existing  is  more  gratified  than  myself  with 
the  contemplation  of  splendid  scenery.  In  saying  this, 
however,  I do  not  mean  that  savage  sublimity  of  landscape 
— that  majestic  assemblage  of  stupendous  mountain  and 
roaring  cataract — of  colossal  rocks  and  innumerable  preci- 
pices— where  Nature  appears  to  designate  to  the  bear  and 


330 


Barrington’s  recollections. 


the  eagle,  to  the  boar  or  chamois — those  tracts  which  she 
originally  created  for  their  peculiar  accommodation.  To  the 
enthusiastic  sketcher  and  the  high- wrought  tourist  I yield  an 
exclusive  right  to  those  interesting  regions,  which  are  far  too 
sublime  for  my  ordinary  pencil.  I own  that  I prefer  that 
luxurious  scenery  where  the  art  and  industry  of  man  go  hand 
in  hand  with  the  embellishments  of  Nature,  and  where 
Providence  smiling  combines  her  blessings  with  her  beauties . 

Were  I asked  to  exemplify  my  ideas  of  rural,  animated, 
cheering  landscape,  I should  say — “ My  friend,  travel  ! 
Visit  that  narrow  region  which  we  call  the  golden  belt  of 
Ireland*  Explore  every  league  from  the  Metropolis  to  the 
Meeting  of  the  Waters.  Journey  which  way  you  please, 
you  will  find  the  native  myrtle  and  indigenous  arbutus 
glowing  throughout  the  severest  winter,  and  forming  the 
ordinary  cottage  fence.” 

The  scenery  of  Wicklow  is  doubtless  on  a very  minor 
scale,  quite  unable  to  compete  with  the  grandeur  and 
immensity  of  continental  landscape.  Even  to  our  own 
Killarney  it  is  not  comparable  ; but  it  possesses  a genial, 
glowing  luxury,  whereof  more  elevated  scenery  is  often 
destitute.  It  is,  besides,  in  the  world  ; its  beauties  seem 
alive.  It  blooms,  it  blossoms  ; the  mellow  climate  extracts 
from  every  shrub  a tribute  of  fragrance  wherewith  the  atmo- 
sphere is  saturated,  and  through  such  a medium  does  the 
refreshing  rain  descend  to  brighten  the  hues  of  the  ever- 
greens ! 

I frankly  admit  myself  an  enthusiast  as  to  that  lovely 
district.  In  truth,  I fear  I should  have  been  enthusiastic  on 

♦ That  lovely  district  extends  about  thirty  miles  in  length,  and  from 
four  to  seven  in  breadth.  It  commences  near  Dublin,  and  ends  at  a 
short  distance  beyond  Avondale.  The  soil  is  generally  a warm  gravel, 
with  verdant  valleys,  bounded  by  mountains  arable  to  their  summits  on 
one  side,  and  by  the  sea  upon  the  other.  The  gold  mine  is  on  a frontier 
of  this  district,  and  it  is  perhaps  the  most  congenial  to  the  growth  of 
trees  and  shrubs  of  any  spot  in  the  British  dominions. 


DEATH  OF  LORD  ROSSMORE. 

many  points,  had  not  law,  the  most  powerful  antidote  to  that 
feeling,  interposed  to  check  its  growth. 

The  site  of  my  sylvan  residence,  Dunran,  was  nearly  in 
the  centre  of  the  golden  belt,  about  fifteen  miles  from  the 
capital  ; but  owing  to  the  varied  nature  of  the  country,  it 
appeared  far  more  distant.  Bounded  by  the  beautiful  Glen 
of  the  Downs,  at  the  foot  of  the  magnificent  Bellevue,  and 
the  more  distant  sugar-loaf  mountain  called  the  Dangle, 
together  with  Tynnehinch — less  celebrated  for  its  unrivalled 
scenery  than  as  the  residence  of  Ireland’s  first  patriot — the 
dark,  deep  glen,  the  black  lake,  and  mystic  vale  of  Luge- 
lough,  contrasted  quite  magically  with  the  highly  cultivated 
beauties  of  Dunran — the  parks,  and  wilds,  and  sublime 
cascade  of  Powerscourt,  and  the  newly-created  magnificence 
of  Mount  Kennedy,  abundantly  prove  that  perfection  itself 
may  exist  in  contrasts.  In  fine,  I found  myself  enveloped  by 
the  hundred  beauties  of  that  enchanting  district,  which, 
though  of  one  family,  were  rendered  yet  more  attractive  by 
the  variety  of  their  features  ; and  had  I not  been  tied  to 
laborious  duties,  I should  infallibly  have  sought  refuge  there 
altogether  from  the  cares  of  the  world. 

One  of  the  greatest  pleasures  I enjoyed  whilst  resident  at 
Dunran  was  the  near  abode  of  the  late  Lord  Rossmore,  at 
that  time  commander-in-chief  in  Ireland.  His  lordship 
knew  my  father,  and  from  my  commencement  in  public  life 
had  been  my  friend,  and  a sincere  one.  He  was  a Scotsman 
born,  but  had  come  to  Ireland  when  very  young,  as  page  to 
the  Lord  Lieutenant.  He  had  married  an  heiress,  had 
purchased  the  estate  of  Mount  Kennedy,  built  a noble  man- 
sion, laid  out  some  of  the  finest  gardens  in  Ireland,  and,  in 
fact,  improved  the  demesne  as  far  as  taste,  skill,  and  money 
could  accomplish.  He  was  what  may  be  called  a remarkably 
fine  old  man,  quite  the  gentleman,  and  when  at  Mount 
Kennedy  quite  the  country  gentleman.  He  lived  in  a style 
few  people  can  attain  to  ; his  table,  supplied  by  his  own 


332  Barrington's  recollections. 

farms,  was  adapted  to  the  Viceroy  himself,  yet  was  ever 
spread  for  his  neighbours  ; in  a word,  no  man  ever  kept  a 
more  even  hand  in  society  than  Lord  Rossmore,  and  no  man 
was  ever  better  repaid  by  universal  esteem.  Had  his 
connexions  possessed  his  understanding,  and  practised  his 
habits,  they  would  probably  have  found  more  friends 
when  they  wanted  them. 

This  intimacy  at  Mount  Kennedy  gave  rise  to  an  occur- 
rence the  most  extraordinary  and  inexplicable  of  my  whole 
existence,  an  occurrence  which  for  many  years  occupied  my 
thoughts  and  wrought  on  my  imagination.  Lord  Rossmore 
was  advanced  in  years,  but  I never  heard  of  his  having  had 
a single  day's  indisposition.  He  bore  in  his  green  old  age 
the  appearance  of  robust  health.  During  the  vice-royalty  of 
Earl  Hardwick,  Lady  Barrington,  at  a drawing-room  at 
Dublin  Castle,  met  Lord  Rossmore.  He  had  been  making 
up  one  of  his  weekly  parties  for  Mount  Kennedy,  to  com- 
mence the  next  day,  and  had  sent  down  orders  for  every 
preparation  to  be  made.  The  Lord  Lieutenant  was  to  be 
of  the  company. 

“ My  little  farmer,”  said  he  to  Lady  Barrington,  address- 
ing her  by  a pet  name,  “ when  you  go  home,  tell  Sir  Jonah 
that  no  business  is  to  prevent  him  from  bringing  you  down 
to  dine  with  me  to-morrow.  I will  have  no  ifs  in  the  matter 
— so  tell  him  that  come  he  must ! ” She  promised  positi- 
vely, and  on  her  return  informed  me  of  her  engagement,  to 
which  I at  once  agreed.  We  retired  to  our  chamber  about 
twelve,  and  towards  two  in  the  morning  I was  awakened  by 
a sound  of  a very  extraordinary  nature.  I listened  ; it 
occurred  first  at  short  intervals  ; it  resembled  neither  a voice 
nor  an  instrument,  it  was  softer  than  any  voice,  and  wilder 
than  any  music,  and  seemed  to  float  in  the  air.  I don’t 
know  wherefore,  but  my  heart  beat  forcibly  ; the  sound 
became  still  more  plaintive,  till  it  almost  died  away  in  the 
air,  when  a sudden  change,  as  if  excited  by  a pang,  changed 


DEATH  OF  LORD  ROSSMORE. 


333 


its  tone  ; it  seemed  descending . I felt  every  nerve  tremble  ; 
it  was  not  a natural  sound,  nor  could  I make  out  the  point 
from  whence  it  came. 

At  length  I awakened  Lady  Barrington,  who  heard  it  as 
well  as  myself  ; she  suggested  that  it  might  be  an  Eolian 
harp  ; but  to  that  instrument  it  bore  no  similitude — it  was 
altogether  a different  character  of  sound.  My  wife  at  first 
appeared  less  affected  than  I,  but  subsequently  she  was 
more  so. 

We  now  went  to  a large  window  in  our  bedroom  which 
looked  directly  upon  a small  garden  underneath  ; the  sound 
seemed  then  obviously  to  ascend  from  a grass-plot  im- 
mediately below  our  window.  It  continued  ; Lady  Barring- 
ton requested  that  I would  call  up  her  maid,  which  I did, 
and  she  was  evidently  more  affected  than  either  of  us.  The 
sounds  lasted  far  more  than  half  an  hour.  At  last  a deep, 
heavy,  throbbing  sigh  seemed  to  issue  from  the  spot,  and 
was  shortly  succeeded  by  a sharp  but  low  cry,  and  by  the 
distinct  exclamation,  thrice  repeated,  of  “ Rossmore — Ross- 
more— Rossmore ! ” I will  not  attempt  to  describe  my  own 
feelings,  indeed  I cannot.  The  maid  fled  in  terror  from  the 
window,  and  it  was  with  difficulty  I prevailed  on  Lady 
Barrington  to  return  to  bed  ; in  about  a minute  after,  the 
sound  died  gradually  away  until  all  was  silent. 

Lady  Barrington,  who  is  not  so  superstitious  as  I,  attri- 
buted this  circumstance  to  a hundred  different  causes,  and 
made  me  promise  that  I would  not  mention  it  next  day  at 
Mount  Kennedy,  since  we  should  be  thereby  rendered 
laughing-stocks.  At  length,  wearied  with  speculations,  we 
fell  into  a sound  slumber. 

About  seven  the  ensuing  morning  a strong  rap  at  my 
chamber-door  awakened  me.  The  recollection  of  the  past 
night’s  adventure  rushed  instantly  upon  my  mind,  and 
rendered  me  very  unfit  to  be  taken  suddenly  on  any  subject. 
It  was  light ; I went  to  the  door,  when  my  faithful  servant, 


334 


Barrington’s  recollections. 


Lawler,  exclaimed  on  the  other  side,  “ O Lord,  sir  ! ” 
“ What  is  the  matter  ? ” said  I,  hurriedly.  “ O sir  ! 
ejaculated  he,  “ Lord  Rossmore’s  footman  was  running  past 
the  door  in  great  haste,  and  told  me  in  passing  that  my  lord, 
after  coming  from  the  castle,  had  gone  to  bed  in  perfect 
health,  but  that  about  half- after  two  this  morning  his  own 
man  hearing  a noise  in  his  master’s  bed — he  slept  in  the  same 
room — went  to  him,  and  found  him  in  the  agonies  of  death, 
and  before  he  could  alarm  the  other  servants  all  was  over  ! ” 

I conjecture  nothing.  I only  relate  the  incident  as 
unequivocally  matter  of  fact.  Lord  Rossmore  was  absolutely 
dying  at  the  moment  I heard  his  name  pronounced.  Let 
sceptics  draw  their  own  conclusions  ; perhaps  natural  causes 
may  be  assigned  ; but  I am  totally  unequal  to  the  task. 

Atheism  may  ridicule  me,  Orthodoxy  may  despise  me, 
Bigotry  may  lecture  me,  Fanaticism  might  burn  me,  yet  in 
my  very  faith  I would  seek  consolation.  It  is,  in  my  mind, 
better  to  believe  too  much  than  too  little , and  that  is  the  only 
theological  crime  of  which  I can  be  fairly  accused. 


THEATRICAL  RECOLLECTIONS. 


335 


CHAPTER  XL. 

THEATRICAL  RECOLLECTIONS. 

From  my  youth  I was  attached  to  theatrical  representations, 
and  have  still  a clear  recollection  of  many  of  the  eminent 
performers  of  my  early  days.  My  grandmother,  with  whom 
I resided  for  many  years,  had  silver  tickets  of  admission  to 
Crow  Street  Theatre,  whither  I was  very  frequently  sent. 

The  playhouses  in  Dublin  were  then  lighted  with  tallow 
candles,  stuck  into  tin  circles  hanging  from  the  middle  of  the 
stage,  which  were  every  now  and  then  snuffed  by  some 
performer  ; and  two  soldiers  with  fixed  bayonets  always 
stood  like  statues  on  each  side  of  the  stage,  close  to  the  boxes, 
to  keep  the  audience  in  order.  The  galleries  were  very  noisy 
and  very  droll.  The  ladies  and  gentlemen  in  the  boxes 
always  went  dressed  out  nearly  as  for  Court  ; the  strictest 
etiquette  and  decorum  were  preserved  in  that  circle  ; whilst 
the  pit,  as  being  full  of  critics  and  wise  men,  was  particularly 
respected,  except  when  the  young  gentlemen  of  the  uni- 
versity occasionally  forced  themselves  in  to  revenge  some 
insult,  real  or  imagined,  to  a member  of  their  body — on 
which  occasions  all  the  ladies,  well-dressed  men,  and  peace- 
able people  generally  decamped  forthwith,  and  the  young 
gentlemen  as  generally  proceeded  to  beat  or  turn  out  the 
residue  of  the  audience,  and  to  break  everything  that  came 
within  their  reach.  These  exploits  were  by  no  means 
uncommon  ; and  the  number  and  rank  of  the  young  culprits 
were  so  great  that,  coupled  with  the  impossibility  of  selecting 
the  guilty,  the  college  would  have  been  nearly  depopulated 
and  many  of  the  great  families  in  Ireland  enraged  beyond 
measure,  had  the  students  been  expelled,  or  even  rusticated. 

I had  the  honour  of  being  frequently  present,  and  (as  far 


336 


Barrington’s  recollections. 


as  in  melee)  giving  a helping  hand  to  our  encounters  both  in 
the  playhouses  and  streets.  We  were  in  the  habit  of  going 
about  the  latter  on  dark  nights  in  coaches,  and  by  flinging 
out  halfpence,  breaking  the  windows  of  all  the  houses  we 
rapidly  drove  by,  to  the  astonishment  and  terror  of  the 
proprietors.  At  other  times  we  used  to  convey  gunpowder 
squibs  into  all  the  lamps  in  several  streets  at  once,  and  by 
longer  or  shorter  fusees  contrive  to  have  them  all  burst  about 
the  same  time,  breaking  every  lamp  to  shivers,  and  leaving 
whole  streets  in  utter  darkness.  Occasionally  we  threw 
large  crackers  into  the  china  and  glass  shops,  and  delighted 
to  see  the  terrified  shopkeepers  trampling  on  their  own 
porcelain  and  cut  glass  for  fear  of  an  explosion.  By  way  of  a 
treat,  we  used  sometimes  to  pay  the  watchmen  to  lend  us 
their  cloaks  and  rattles  ; by  virtue  whereof  we  broke  into 
the  low  prohibited  gambling  houses,  knocked  out  the  lights, 
drove  the  gamblers  down  stairs,  and  then  gave  all  their 
stakes  to  the  watchmen.  The  whole  body  of  watchmen 
belonging  to  one  parish  (that  of  the  round  church)  were  our 
sworn  friends,  and  would  take  our  part  against  any  other 
watchmen  in  Dublin.  We  made  a permanent  subscription, 
and  paid  each  of  these  regularly  seven  shillings  a week  for 
his  patronage.  I mention  these  trifles  out  of  a thousand  odd 
pranks,  as  a part  of  my  plan,  to  shew,  from  a comparison  of 
the  past  with  the  present  state  of  society  in  the  Irish  metro- 
polis, the  extraordinary  improvement  which  has  taken  place 
in  point  of  decorum  within  the  last  half  century.  The 
young  gentlemen  of  the  university  then  were  in  a state  of 
great  insubordination — not  as  to  their  learning,  but  their  wild 
habits  ; indeed,  the  singular  feats  of  some  of  them  would  be 
scarcely  credible  now,  and  they  were  so  linked  together  that 
an  offence  to  one  was  an  offence  to  all.  There  were  several 
noblemen’s  sons  with  their  gold-laced,  and  elder  sons  of 
baronets  with  their  silver-laced  gowns,  who  used  to  accom- 
pany us  with  their  gowns  turned  inside  out  ; yet  our  freaks 


THEATRICAL  RECOLLECTIONS. 


337 


arose  merely  from  the  fire  and  natural  vivacity  of  uncon- 
trolled youth  ; no  calm,  deliberate  vices — no  low  meannesses 
— were  ever  committed.  That  class  of  young  men  now 
termed  dandies  we  then  called  macaronies,  and  we  made  it 
a standing  rule  to  thrash  them  whenever  we  got  a fair  oppor- 
tunity. Such  also  as  had  been  long  tied  to  their  “ mother’s 
apron-strings  ” we  made  no  small  sport  with  when  we  got 
them  clear  inside  the  college  ; we  called  them  milk-sops , and 
if  they  declined  drinking  as  much  wine  as  ordered,  we 
always  dosed  them,  as  in  duty  bound,  with  tumblers  of  salt 
and  water,  till  they  came  to  their  feeding , as  we  called  it. 
Thus  generally  commenced  a young  man  of  fashion’s 
novitiate  above  fifty  years  ago.  However,  our  wildness, 
instead  of  increasing  as  we  advanced  in  our  college  courses, 
certainly  diminished,  and  often  left  behind  it  the  elements 
of  much  talent  and  virtue.  Indeed,  I believe  there  were 
to  the  full  as  good  scholars,  and  certainly  to  the  full  as  high 
gentlemen,  educated  in  the  Dublin  University  then  as  in 
this  wiser  and  more  cold-blooded  era. 

I remember,  even  before  that  period,  seeing  old  Mr. 
Sheridan  perform  the  part  of  Cato  at  one  of  the  Dublin 
theatres,  I do  not  recollect  which  ; but  I well  recollect  his 
dress,  which  consisted  of  bright  armour  under  a fine  laced 
scarlet  cloak,  and  surmounted  by  a huge  white,  bushy,  well- 
powdered  wig  (like  Dr.  Johnson’s),  over  which  was  stuck  his 
helmet.  I wondered  much  how  he  could  kill  himself  with- 
out stripping  off  the  armour  before  he  performed  that  opera- 
tion ! I also  recollect  him  particularly  (even  as  if  before  my 
eyes  now)  playing  Alexander  the  Great,  and  throwing  the 
javelin  at  Clytus,  whom  happening  to  miss,  he  hit  the  cup- 
bearer, then  played  by  one  of  the  hack  performers,  a Mr. 
Jemmy  Fotterel.  Jemmy  very  naturally  supposed  that  he 
was  hit  designedly , and  that  it  was  some  new  light  of  the 
great  Mr.  Sheridan  to  slay  the  cupbearer  in  preference  to 
his  friend  Clytus  (which  certainly  would  have  been  a less 

(D311) 


z 


338 


BARRINGTON'S  RECOLLECTIONS. 


unjustifiable  manslaughter),  and  that,  therefore,  he  ought  to 
tumble  and  make  a painful  end,  according  to  dramatic 
custom  time  immemorial.  Immediately,  therefore,  on  being 
struck,  he  reeled,  staggered,  and  fell  very  naturally,  con- 
sidering it  was  his  first  death  ; but  being  determined  on  this 
unexpected  opportunity  to  make  an  impression  upon  the 
audience,  when  he  found  himself  stretched  out  on  the  boards 
at  full  length,  he  began  to  roll  about,  kick,  and  flap  the  stage 
with  his  hands  most  immoderately  ; falling  next  into  strong 
convulsions,  exhibiting  every  symptom  of  exquisite  torture, 
and  at  length  expiring  with  a groan  so  loud  and  so  long  that 
it  paralysed  even  the  people  in  the  galleries,  whilst  the  ladies 
believed  that  he  was  really  killed,  and  cried  aloud. 

Though  then  very  young,  I was  myself  so  terrified  in  the 
pit  that  I never  shall  forget  it.  However,  Jemmy  Fotterel 
was  in  the  end  more  clapped  than  any  Clytus  had  ever 
been,  and  even  the  murderer  himself  could  not  help  laugh- 
ing most  heartily  at  the  incident. 

The  actresses  both  of  tragedy  and  genteel  comedy  for- 
merly wore  large  hoops,  and  whenever  they  made  a speech 
walked  across  the  stage  and  changed  sides  with  the  per-  j 
former  who  was  to  speak  next,  thus  veering  backwards  and 
forwards  like  a shuttlecock  during  the  entire  performance. 
This  custom  partially  prevailed  in  the  continental  theatres 
till  very  lately. 

I recollect  Mr.  Barry,  who  was  really  a remarkably  hand-  j 
some  man,  and  his  lady,  formerly  Mrs.  Dancer,  also  Mr.  ; 
Digges,  who  used  to  play  the  Ghost  in  Hamlet.  One  night, 
in  doubling  that  part  with  Polonius,  Digges  forgot,  on 
appearing  as  the  Ghost,  previously  to  rub  off  the  bright  red 
paint  with  which  his  face  had  been  daubed  for  the  other 
character.  A spirit  with  a large  red  nose  and  vermilioned 
cheeks  was  extremely  novel  and  much  applauded.  There 
was  also  a famous  actor  who  used  to  play  the  Cock  that 
crew  to  call  off  the  Ghost  when  Hamlet  had  done  with  him  ; 


THEATRICAL  RECOLLECTIONS. 


339 


this  performer  did  his  part  so  well  that  everybody  used  to 
say  he  was  the  best  Cock  that  ever  had  been  heard  at 
Smock  Alley,  and  six  or  eight  other  gentry  of  the  dunghill 
species  were  generally  brought  behind  the  scenes,  who,  on 
hearing  him,  mistook  him  for  a brother  cock,  and  set  up 
their  pipes  all  together  ; and  thus,  by  the  infinity  of  crowing 
at  the  same  moment,  the  hour  was  the  better  marked,  and 
the  Ghost  glided  back  to  the  other  world  in  the  midst  of  a 
perfect  chorus  of  cocks,  to  the  no  small  admiration  of  the 
audience. 

Of  the  distinguishing  merits  of  the  old  actors,  or  indeed 
of  many  of  the  more  modern  ones,  I profess  myself  but  a 
very  moderate  judge.  One  thing,  however,  I am  sure  of, 
that,  man  or  boy,  I never  admired  tragedy,  however  well 
personated.  Lofty  feelings  and  strong  passions  may  be 
admirably  mimicked  therein,  but  the  ranting,  whining, 
obviously  premeditated  starting,  disciplined  gesticulation, 
etc.,  the  committing  of  suicide  in  mellifluous  blank  verse 
and  rhyming  when  in  the  agonies  of  death,  stretch  away  so 
very  far  from  nature  as  to  destroy  all  that  illusion  whereon 
the  effect  of  dramatic  exhibition  in  my  mind  entirely 
depends.  Unless  occasionally  to  witness  some  very  cele- 
brated new  actor,  I have  not  attended  a tragedy  these  forty 
years,  nor  have  I ever  yet  seen  any  tragedian  on  the  British 
stage  who  made  so  decided  an  impression  on  my  feelings  as 
Mr.  Kean  in  some  of  his  characters  has  done.  When  I 
have  seen  other  celebrated  men  enact  the  same  parts  I have 
remained  quite  tranquil,  however  my  judgment  may  have 
been  satisfied  ; but  he  has  made  me  shudder , and  that,  in 
my  estimation,  is  the  grand  triumph  of  the  actor’s  art.  I 
have  seldom  sat  out  the  last  murder  scene  of  any  play 
except  Tom  Thumb , or  Chrononhotonthologos , which  cer- 
tainly are  no  burlesques  on  some  of  our  standard  tragedies. 

Kean’s  Shylock  and  Sir  Giles  Overreach  seemed  to  me 
neither  more  nor  less  than  actual  identification  of  those 


340  Barrington’s  recollections. 

portraitures  ; so  much  so,  in  fact,  that  I told  him  myself, 
after  seeing  him  perform  the  first-mentioned  part,  that  I 
could  have  found  it  in  my  heart  to  knock  his  brains  out  the 
moment  he  had  finished  his  performance.  Nothing  could  be 
more  truly  disgusting  than  the  circumstance  of  the  most 
ruffianly  parts  of  the  London  population,  under  the  general 
appellation  of  a British  audience , assuming  to  themselves  the 
feelings  of  virtue,  delicacy,  decorum,  morals,  and  modesty, 
for  the  sole  purpose  of  driving  into  exile  one  of  the  first 
performers  that  ever  trod  the  stage  of  England  ! and  that  for 
an  offence  which,  though  abstractedly  unjustifiable,  a great 
number  of  the  gentry,  not  a few  of  the  nobility,  and  even 
members  of  the  holy  church  militant,  are  constantly  com- 
mitting and  daily  detected  in  ; which  commission  and 
detection  by  no  means  seem  to  have  diminished  their 
popularity,  or  caused  their  reception  to  be  less  cordial 
amongst  the  saints,  methodists,  legal  authorities,  and 
justices  of  the  quorum. 

The  virtuous  sentence  of  transportation  passed  against 
Mr.  Kean  by  the  mob  of  London  certainly  began  a new  series 
of  British  morality,  and  the  laudable  societies  for  the  supres- 
sion  of  vice  may  shortly  be  eased  of  a great  proportion 
of  their  labours  by  more  active  moralists,  culled  from 
High  Street,  St.  Giles’s,  the  Israelites  of  Rag  Fair,  and  the 
Houses  of  Correction.  Hogarth  has,  in  his  print  of  “ Even- 
ing,” immortalised  the  happy  state  of  the  horned  citizens 
at  his  period. 

Two  errors,  however,  that  great  actor  has  in  a remarkable 
degree  : some  of  his  pauses  are  so  long  that  he  appears  to 
have  forgotten  himself,  and  he  pats  his  breast  so  often  that 
it  really  reminds  one  of  a nurse  patting  her  infant  to  keep 
it  from  squalling.  It  is  a pity  he  is  not  aware  of  these 
imperfections. 

If,  however,  I have  been  always  inclined  to  undervalue 
tragedy,  on  the  other  hand,  all  the  comic  performers  of  my 


THEATRICAL  RECOLLECTIONS.  34 1 

time  in  Ireland  I perfectly  recollect.  I allude  to  the  days 
of  Ryder,  O’Keeffe,  Wilks,  Wilder,  Vandermere,  etc. 

The  effect  produced  by  even  one  actor,  or  one  trivial 
incident,  is  sometimes  surprising.  The  dramatic  trifle 
called  Paul  Pry  has  had  a greater  run,  I believe,  than  any 
piece  of  the  kind  ever  exhibited  in  London.  I went  to  see  it, 
and  was  greatly  amused,  not  altogether  by  the  piece,  but  by 
the  ultra  oddity  of  one  performer.  Put  any  handsome  or 
even  human-looking  person  in  Liston’s  place,  and  take  away 
his  umbrella,  and  Paul  Pry  would  scarcely  bring  another 
audience.  His  countenance  certainly  presents  the  drollest 
set  of  stationary  features  I ever  saw,  and  has  the  uncommon 
merit  of  being  exquisitely  comic  per  se,  without  the  slightest 
distortion  ; no  artificial  grimace,  indeed,  could  improve  his 
natural.  I remember  O’Keeffe,  justly  the  delight  of  Dublin  ; 
and  Ryder,  the  best  Sir  John  Brute,  Ranger,  Marplot,  etc., 
in  the  world.  The  prologue  of  Bucks  have  at  ye  All ! was 
repeated  by  him  four  hundred  and  twenty-four  times. 
O’Keeffe’s  Tony  Lumpkin,  Vandermere’s  Skirmish, 
Wilder’s  Colonel  Oldboy,  etc.,  came  as  near  nature  as  acting 
and  mimicry  could  possibly  approach.  There  was  also  a 
first  edition  of  Liston  as  to  drollery  on  the  Dublin  stage, 
usually  called  Old  Sparkes.  He  was  very  tall  and  of  a very 
large  size,  with  heavy-hanging  jaws,  gouty  ankles,  big 
paunch,  and  sluggish  motion,  but  his  comic  face  and  natural 
drollery  were  irresistible.  He  was  a most  excellent  actor  in 
everything  he  could  personate  ; his  grotesque  figure,  how- 
ever, rendered  these  parts  but  few.  Peachum  in  the 
Beggar's  Opera , Caliban,  with  his  own  additions,  in  The 
Tempest , and  all  bulky,  droll,  low  characters  he  did  to  the 
greatest  perfection.  At  one  time,  when  the  audiences  of 
Smock  Alley  were  beginning  to  flag,  Old  Sparkes  told  Ryder 
if  he  would  bring  out  the  after-piece  of  The  Padlock , and 
permit  him  to  manage  it,  he  would  ensure  him  a succession 
of  good  nights.  Ryder  gave  him  his  way,  and  the  bills 


342 


Barrington’s  recollections. 


announced  a first  appearance  in  the  part  of  Leonora.  The 
debutante  was  reported  to  be  a Spanish  lady.  The  public 
curiosity  was  excited,  and  youth,  beauty,  and  tremulous 
modesty  were  all  anticipated.  The  house  overflowed. 
Impatience  was  unbounded.  The  play  ended  in  confusion, 
and  the  overture  of  The  Padlock  was  received  with  rapture. 
Leonora  at  length  appeared.  The  clapping  was  like  thunder, 
to  give  courage  to  the  debutante , who  had  a handsome  face, 
and  was  very  beautifully  dressed  as  a Spanish  Donna, 
which  it  was  supposed  she  really  was.  Her  gigantic  size, 
it  is  true,  rather  astonished  the  audience.  However,  they 
willingly  took  for  granted  that  the  Spaniards  were  an  im- 
mense people,  and  it  was  observed  that  England  must  have 
had  a great  escape  of  the  Spanish  Armada,  if  the  men  were 
proportionably  gigantic  to  the  ladies.  Her  voice,  too,  was 
rather  of  the  hoarsest,  but  that  was  accounted  for  by  the 
sudden  change  of  climate.  At  last  Leonora  began  her  song 
of  “ Sweet  Robin,” — 

Say,  little  foolish,  fluttering  thing. 

Whither,  ah  ! whither  would  you  wing  ? 

And  at  the  same  moment  Leonora’s  mask  falling  off,  Old 
Sparkes  stood  confessed,  with  an  immense  gander  which  he 
brought  from  under  his  cloak,  and  which  he  had  trained  to 
stand  on  his  hand  and  screech  to  his  voice,  and  in  chorus 
with  himself.  The  whim  took.  The  roar  of  laughter  was 
quite  inconceivable.  He  had  also  got  Mungo  played  by  a 
real  black.  And  the  whole  was  so  extravagantly  ludicrous, 
and  so  entirely  to  the  taste  of  the  Irish  galleries  at  that  time, 
that  his  “ Sweet  Robin  ” was  encored,  and  the  frequent 
repetition  of  the  piece  replenished  poor  Ryder’s  treasury  for 
the  residue  of  the  season 

I think  about  that  time  Mr.  John  Johnstone  was  a 
dragoon.  His  mother  was  a very  good  sort  of  woman, 
whom  I remember  extremely  well.  Between  fifty  and  sixty 
years  ago  she  gave  me  a little  book,  entitled  The  History  of 


THEATRICAL  RECOLLECTIONS. 


343 


the  Seven  Champions  of  Christendom , which  I have,  with 
several  other  books  of  my  childhood,  to  this  day.  She  used 
to  call  at  my  grandmother’s  to  sell  run  muslins,  etc.,  which 
she  carried  about  her  hips  in  great  wallets,  passing  them  off 
for  a hoop.  She  was  called  by  the  old  women,  in  plea- 
santry, “ Mull  and  Jacconot  ” ; sold  great  bargains,  and 
was  a universal  favourite  with  the  ladies.  Young  Johnstone 
was  a remarkably  genteel,  well-looking  lad.  He  used  to 
bring  presents  of  trout  to  my  grandmother,  which  he  caught 
in  the  great  canal  then  going  on  close  to  Dublin.  He  soon 
went  into  the  army  ; but  having  a weakness  in  his  legs,  he 
procured  a speedy  discharge,  and  acquired  eminence  on  the 
Irish  stage. 

I never  happened  to  encounter  Mr.  Johnstone  in  private 
society  till  we  met  at  dinner  at  Lord  Barrymore’s  in  1812, 
where  Colonel  Bloomfield,  my  friend  Mr.  Richard  Martin, 
now  justly  called  Humanity  Martin , and  others,  were 
assembled.  I was  glad  to  meet  the  distinguished  comedian, 
and  mentioned  some  circumstances  to  him  which  proved 
the  extent  of  my  memory.  He  sang  that  night  as  sweetly 
as  ever  I heard  him  on  the  stage,  and  that  is  saying  much. 

Mr.  Johnstone  was  a truly  excellent  performer  of  the 
more  refined  species  of  Irish  characters  ; but  Nature  had 
not  given  him  enough  of  that  original  shoulder -twist,  and 
what  they  call  the  potheen-twang , which  so  strongly  char- 
acterise the  genuine  national  vis  comica  of  the  lower  orders 
of  Irish.  In  this  respect,  perhaps,  Owenson  was  superior 
to  him — of  whom  the  reader  will  find  a more  detailed  account 
in  a future  page. 

No  modem  comedy,  in  my  mind,  equals  those  of  the  old 
writers.  The  former  are  altogether  devoid  of  that  high-bred, 
witty  playfulness  of  dialogue  so  conspicuous  in  the  works  of 
the  latter.  Gaudy  spectacle,  commonplace  clap-traps,  and 
bad  puns,  together  with  forced  or  mongrel  sentiment,  have 
been  substituted  to  “ make  the  unskilful  laugh,”  and  to  the 


344 


Barrington's  recollections. 


manifest  sorrow  of  the  “ judicious.”  Perhaps  so  much  the 
better  ; as,  although  there  are  now  most  excellent  scene- 
painters  and  fire- workers,  the  London  stage  appears  to  be 
almost  destitute  of  competent  performers  in  the  parts  of 
genuine  comedy  ; and  the  present  London  audiences  seem 
to  prefer  gunpowder,  resin,  brimstone,  musquetry,  burning 
castles,  and  dancing  ponies,  to  any  human  or  Christian 
entertainments,  evidently  despising  all  those  high-finished 
comic  characters  which  satisfy  the  understanding  and  owe 
nothing  to  the  scenery. 

There  is  another  species  of  theatrical  representation  extant 
in  France,  namely,  scriptural  pieces — half  burlesque,  half 
melodrame.  These  are  undoubtedly  among  the  drollest 
things  imaginable  ; mixing  up  in  one  unconnected  mass 
tragedy,  comedy,  and  farce,  painting,  music,  scenery,  dress 
and  undress,  decency  and  indecency.  Sampson  pulling 
down  the  Hall  of  the  Philistines  is  the  very  finest  piece  of 
spectacle  that  can  be  conceived.  Susannah  and  the  Elders 
is  rather  too  naked  a concern  for  the  English  ladies  to  look  at, 
unless  through  their  fans.  Transparent  ones  have  lately 
been  invented  to  save  the  expense  of  blushes  at  the  theatres, 
etc.  But  the  most  whimsical  of  their  scriptural  dramas  is 
the  exhibition  of  Noah  as  a shipbuilder , preparatory  to 
the  deluge.  He  is  assisted  by  large  gangs  of  angels  working 
as  his  journeymen , whose  great  solicitude  is  to  keep  their 
wings  clear  out  of  the  way  of  their  hatchets,  etc.  At  length 
the  whole  of  them  strike  and  turn  out  for  wages,  till  the  arrival 
of  a body  of  gendarmes  immediately  brings  them  to  order, 
by  whom  they  are  threatened  to  be  sent  back  to  heaven 
if  they  do  not  behave  themselves. 

I have  seen  many  admirable  comedians  on  the  Continent. 
Nothing  can  possibly  exceed  Mademoiselle  Mars,  for 
instance,  in  many  characters  ; but  the  French  are  all  actors 
and  actresses  from  their  cradles  ; and  a great  number  of 
performers,  even  at  the  minor  theatres,  seem  to  me  to  forget 


THEATRICAL  RECOLLECTIONS. 


345 


that  they  are  playing,  and  at  times  nearly  make  the  audience 
forget  it  too.  Their  spectacle  is  admirably  good,  their 
dancing  excellent,  and  their  dresses  beautiful.  Their 
orchestras  are  well  filled  in  every  sense  of  the  word,  and 
the  level  of  musical  composition  not  so  low  as  some  of 
Mr.  Bishop’s  effusions.  Their  singing,  however,  is 
execrable  ; their  tragedy  rant ; but  their  prose  comedy  very 
nature  itself. 

In  short,  the  French  beyond  doubt  exceed  all  other 
people  in  the  world  with  regard  to  theatrical  matters  ; and 
as  every  man,  woman,  and  child  in  Paris  is  equally  attached 
to  spectacle , every  house  is  full,  every  company  encouraged, 
all  tastes  find  some  gratification.  An  Englishman  can 
scarcely  quit  a Parisian  theatre  without  having  seen  himself 
or  some  of  his  family  characteristically  and  capitally  repre- 
sented. The  Anglais  supply  certainly  an  inexhaustible 
source  of  French  mimicry  ; and  as  we  cannot  help  it,  do 
what  we  will,  our  countrymen  now  begin  to  practise  the 
good  sense  of  laughing  at  it  themselves.  John  Bull  thinks 
that  roast  beef  is  the  finest  dish  in  the  whole  world,  and  that 
the  finest  fellow  in  Europe  is  the  man  that  eats  it.  On  both 
points  the  Frenchman  begs  leave,  tout  a fait,  to  differ  with 
John  ; and  nothing  can  be  sillier  than  to  oppose  opinions 
with  a positive  people  in  their  own  country,  and  who  never 
yet,  right  or  wrong,  gave  up  an  argument. 


346 


BARRINGTON’S  RECOLLECTIONS. 


CHAPTER  XLI. 

MRS.  JORDAN. 

The  foregoing  short  and  superficial  sketches  of  the  Dublin 
stage  in  my  juvenile  days  bring  me  to  a subject  more  recent 
and  much  more  interesting  to  my  feelings.  I touch  it, 
nevertheless,  with  pain,  and  must  ever  deeply  regret  the 
untimely  catastrophe  of  a lady  who  was  at  once  the  highest 
surviving  prop  of  her  profession  and  a genuine  sample  of 
intrinsic  excellence.  Had  her  fate  descended  whilst  filling 
her  proper  station  and  in  her  own  country,  or  had  not  the 
circumstances  which  attended  some  parts  of  that  lady’s 
career  been  entirely  mistaken — had  not  the  cause  of  her 
miseries  been  grossly  misrepresented,  and  the  story  of  her 
desertion  and  embarrassed  state  at  the  time  of  her  dissolu- 
tion altogether  false — I probably  should  never  have  done 
more,  under  the  impression  of  its  being  intrusive,  perhaps 
indelicate,  than  mention  her  personal  excellences. 

But  so  much  of  that  lady’s  life,  and  so  much  relating  to 
her  death  also,  has  been  mis-stated  in  the  public  prints  (not 
for  the  purpose  of  doing  her  justice,  but  of  doing  another 
injustice),  that  I feel  myself  warranted  in  sketching  some 
traits  and  incidents  of  Mrs.  Jordan’s  character  and  life,  all 
of  which  I know  to  be  true,  and  a great  proportion  whereof 
I was  personally  acquainted  with.  Some  degree  of  mystery 
has  doubtless  rested,  and  will  probably  continue  to  rest,  on 
the  causes  which  led  that  lady  to  repair  to  a foreign  country, 
where  she  perished.  All  I shall  say,  however,  on  that  score 
is,  that  these  causes  have  never  yet  been  known  except  to  a 
very  limited  number  of  individuals,  and  never  had,  in  any 
shape  or  in  any  degree,  bearing  or  connexion  with  her 
former  situation.  The  reports  current  on  this  head  I know 


MRS.  JORDAN.  347 

to  be  utterly  unfounded,  and  many  of  them  I believe  to  be 
altogether  malicious. 

I am  not  Mrs.  Jordan's  biographer  ; my  observations  only 
apply  to  abstract  portions  of  her  conduct  and  abstract 
periods  of  her  life.  I had  the  gratification  of  knowing  inti- 
mately that  amiable  woman  and  justly  celebrated  performer. 
Her  public  talents  are  recorded  ; her  private  merits  are 
known  to  few.  I enjoyed  a portion  of  her  confidence  on 
several  very  particular  subjects,  and  had  full  opportunity  cf 
appreciating  her  character. 

It  was  not  by  a cursory  acquaintance  that  Mrs.  Jordan 
could  be  known.  Unreserved  confidence  alone  could 
develop  her  qualities,  and  none  of  them  escaped  my  observa- 
tion. I have  known  her  when  in  the  busy,  bustling  exercise 
of  her  profession  ; I have  known  her  when  in  the  tranquil  lap 
of  ease,  of  luxury,  and  of  magnificence.  I have  seen  her  in 
a theatre,  surrounded  by  a crowd  of  adulating  dramatists  ; 
I have  seen  her  in  a palace,  surrounded  by  a numerous, 
interesting,  and  beloved  offspring.  I have  seen  her  happy  ; 
I have  seen  her,  alas  ! miserable  ; and  I coukf  not  help 
participating  in  all  her  feelings. 

At  the  point  of  time  when  I first  saw  Mrs.  Jordan  she 
could  not  be  much  more,  I think,  than  sixteen  years  of  age, 
and  was  making  her  debut  as  Miss  Francis  at  the  Dublin 
Theatre.  It  is  worthy  of  observation  that  her  early  appear- 
ances in  Dublin  were  not  in  any  of  those  characters  (save 
one)  wherein  she  afterwards  so  eminently  excelled,  but  such 
as,  being  more  girlish,  were  better  suited  to  her  spirits  and 
her  age.  I was  then,  of  course,  less  competent  than  now  to 
exercise  the  critical  art,  yet  could  not  but  observe  that  in 
these  parts  she  was  perfect  even  on  her  first  appearance  ; she 
had  no  art,  in  fact,  to  study.  Nature  was  her  sole  instruc- 
tress. Youthful,  joyous,  animated,  and  droll,  her  laugh 
bubbled  up  from  her  heart,  and  her  tears  welled  out  ingen- 
uously from  the  deep  spring  of  feeling.  Her  countenance 


348 


Barrington’s  recollections. 


was  all  expression,  without  being  all  beauty  ; her  form,  then 
light  and  elastic — her  flexible  limbs — the  juvenile  but 
indescribable  graces  of  her  every  movement,  impressed 
themselves,  as  I perceived,  indelibly  upon  all  who  attended 
even  her  earliest  performances. 

Her  expressive  features  and  eloquent  action  at  all  periods 
harmonised  blandly  with  each  other — not  by  artifice,  how- 
ever skilful,  but  by  intellectual  sympathy  ; and  when  her 
figure  was  adapted  to  the  part  she  assumed,  she  had  only  to 
speak  the  words  of  an  author  to  become  the  very  person  he 
delineated.  Her  voice  was  clear  and  distinct,  modulating 
itself  with  natural  and  winning  ease  ; and  when  exerted  in 
song,  its  gentle,  flute-like  melody  formed  the  most  captivat- 
ing contrast  to  the  convulsed  and  thundering  bravura.  She 
was  throughout  the  untutored  child  of  Nature  ; she  sang 
without  effort,  and  generally  without  the  accompaniment  of 
instruments,  and  whoever  heard  her  “ Dead  of  the  Night  ” 
and  her  “ Sweet  Bird,”  either  in  public  or  private,  if  they 
had  any  soul  must  have  surrendered  at  discretion. 

In  genuine  playful  comic  characters,  such  as  Belinda,  etc., 
she  was  unique  ; but  in  the  formal , dignified , high-bred 
parts  of  genteel  comedy,  her  superiority,  although  great, 
was  not  so  decided.  Her  line,  indeed,  was  distinctly 
marked  out,  but  within  its  extent  she  stood  altogether 
unrivalled,  nay,  unapproached. 

At  the  commencement  of  Mrs.  Jordan’s  theatrical  career 
she  had  difficulties  to  encounter  which  nothing  but  supe- 
riority of  talent  could  so  suddenly  have  surmounted.  Both 
of  the  Dublin  theatres  were  filled  with  performers  of  high 
popular  reputation,  and  thus  every  important  part  in  her  line 
of  acting  was  ably  pre-occupied.  The  talent  of  the  female 
performers,  matured  by  experience  and  disciplined  by  prac- 
tice, must  yet  have  yielded  to  the  fascinating  powers  of  her 
natural  genius,  had  it  been  suffered  fairly  to  expand.  But 
the  jealousy  which  never  fails  to  pervade  all  professions  was 


MRS.  JORDAN. 


349 


powerfully  excited  to  restrain  the  development  of  her  mimic 
powers  ; and  it  was  reserved  for  English  audiences  to  give 
full  play  and  credit  to  that  extraordinary  comic  genius  which 
soon  raised  her  to  the  highest  pitch  at  once  of  popular  and 
critical  estimation. 

Mrs.  Daly,  formerly  Miss  Barsanti,  was  foremost  among 
the  successful  occupants  of  those  buoyant  characters  to 
which  Miss  Francis  was  peculiarly  adapted.  Other  actresses 
had  long  filled  the  remaining  parts  to  which  she  aspired,  and 
thus  scarcely  one  was  left  open  to  engage  her  talents. 

Mr.  Daly  about  this  time  resorted  to  a singular  species  of 
theatrical  entertainment,  by  the  novelty  whereof  he  proposed 
to  rival  his  competitors  of  Smock  Alley — namely,  that  of 
reversing  characters , the  men  performing  the  female  and  the 
females  the  male  parts  in  comedy  and  opera.  The  opera 
of  The  Governess  was  played  in  this  way  for  several  nights, 
the  part  of  Lopez  by  Miss  Francis.  In  this  singular  and 
unimportant  character  the  versatility  of  her  talent  rendered 
the  piece  attractive,  and  the  season  concluded  with  a strong 
anticipation  of  her  future  celebrity. 

The  company  then  proceeded  to  perform  in  the  provinces, 
and  at  Waterford  occurred  the  first  grave  incident  in  the  life 
of  Mrs.  Jordan.  Lieutenant  Charles  Doyne,  of  the  3rd 
regiment  of  Heavy  Horse  (Greens),  was  then  quartered  in 
that  city  ; and  struck  with  the  naivete  and  almost  irresistible 
attractions  of  the  young  performer,  his  heart  yielded,  and  he 
became  seriously  and  honourably  attached  to  her.  Lieu- 
tenant Doyne  was  not  handsome,  but  he  was  a gentleman 
and  a worthy  man,  and  had  been  my  friend  and  companion 
some  years  at  the  university.  I knew  him  intimately,  and 
he  entrusted  me  with  his  passion.  Miss  Francis’s  mother 
was  then  alive,  and  sedulously  attended  her.  Full  of  ardour 
and  thoughtlessness  myself,  I advised  him,  if  he  could  win 
the  young  lady,  to  marry  her,  adding  that  no  doubt  fortune 
must  smile  on  so  disinterested  a union.  Her  mother,  how- 


350 


Barrington’s  recollections. 


ever,  was  of  a different  opinion  ; and  as  she  had  no  fortune 
but  her  talent,  the  exercise  of  which  was  to  be  relinquished 
with  the  name  of  Francis,  it  became  a matter  of  serious 
consideration  from  what  source  they  were  to  draw  their 
support — with  the  probability  too  of  a family  ! His  com- 
mission was  altogether  inadequate,  and  his  private  fortune 
very  small.  This  obstacle,  in  short,  was  insurmountable. 
Mrs.  Francis,  anticipating  the  future  celebrity  of  her  child, 
and  unwilling  to  extinguish  in  obscurity  all  chance  of  fame 
and  fortune  by  means  of  the  profession  she  had  adopted, 
worked  upon  her  daughter  to  decline  the  proposal.  The 
treaty  accordingly  ended,  and  Lieutenant  Doyne  appeared 
to  me  for  a little  time  almost  inconsolable.  Miss  Francis, 
accompanied  by  her  mother,  soon  after  went  over  to  Eng- 
land, and  for  nearly  twenty  years  I never  saw  that  unrivalled 
performer. 

Mr.  Owenson,  the  father  of  Lady  Morgan,  was  at  that 
time  highly  celebrated  in  the  line  of  Irish  characters,  and 
never  did  an  actor  exist  so  perfectly  calculated,  in  my 
opinion,  to  personify  that  singular  class  of  people.  Con- 
siderably above  six  feet  in  height,  remarkably  handsome 
and  brave-looking,  vigorous  and  well-shaped,  he  was  not 
vulgar  enough  to  disgust,  nor  was  he  genteel  enough  to  be 
out  of  character  : never  did  I see  any  actor  so  entirely 
identify  himself  with  the  peculiarities  of  those  parts  he 
assumed.  In  the  higher  class  of  Irish  characters — old 
officers,  etc. — he  looked  well,  but  did  not  exhibit  sufficient 
dignity  ; and  in  the  lowest , his  humour  was  scarcely  quaint 
and  original  enough  ; but  in  what  might  be  termed  the 
middle  class  of  Paddies , no  man  ever  combined  the  look  and 
the  manner  with  such  felicity  as  Owenson.  Scientific  sing- 
ing is  not  an  Irish  quality  ; and  he  sang  well  enough.  I 
have  heard  Jack  Johnstone  warble  so  very  skilfully,  and  act 
some  parts  so  very  like  a man  of  first-rate  education,  that  I 
almost  forgot  the  nation  he  was  mimicking  ; that  was  not  the 


MRS.  JORDAN. 


35^ 


case  with  Owenson  ; he  acted  as  if  he  had  not  received  too 
much  schooling,  and  sang  like  a man  whom  nobody  had 
instructed.  He  was,  like  most  of  his  profession,  careless  of 
his  concerns,  and  grew  old  without  growing  rich.  His  last 
friend  was  old  Fontaine,  a very  celebrated  Irish  dancing- 
master,  many  years  domiciliated  and  highly  esteemed  in 
Dublin.  He  aided  Owenson  and  his  family  whilst  he  had 
means  to  do  so,  and  they  both  died  nearly  at  the  same  time 
— instances  of  talent  and  improvidence. 

This  digression  I have  ventured  on,  because  in  the  first 
place  it  harmonises  with  the  theatrical  nature  of  my  subject, 
and  may  be  interesting  because  it  relates  to  the  father  of  an 
eminent  and  amiable  woman ; and  most  particularly 
because  I was  informed  that  Mr.  Owenson  took  a warm 
interest  in  the  welfare  of  Miss  Francis,  and  was  the  principal 
adviser  of  her  mother  in  rejecting  Mr.  Doyne’s  addresses. 

After  a lapse  of  many  years  I chanced  to  acquire  the 
honour  of  a very  favourable  introduction  to  his  Royal 
Highness  the  Duke  of  Clarence,  who  became  the  efficient 
friend  of  me  and  of  my  family — not  with  that  high  and  frigid 
mien  which  so  often  renders  ungracious  the  favours  of 
authorities  in  the  British  Government,  but  with  the  frankness 
and  sincerity  of  a prince.  He  received  and  educated  my 
only  son  with  his  own,  and  sent  him,  as  lieutenant  of  the 
5th  Dragoon  Guards,  to  make  his  campaigns  in  the  Penin- 
sula. This  introduction  to  his  Royal  Highness  and  his 
family  gave  me  full  and  unerring  opportunities  of  knowing, 
of  appreciating,  and  valuing  Mrs.  Jordan.  In  her  there  was 
no  guile  ; her  heart  was  conspicuous  in  every  word — her 
feelings  in  every  action  ; and  never  did  I find  in  any  char- 
acter a more  complete  concentration  of  every  quality  that 
should  distinguish  a mother,  a friend,  and  a gentlewoman. 

The  outlines  of  Mrs.  Jordan’s  public  life,  after  her  con- 
nexion of  twenty-three  years  with  that  royal  personage,  are 
too  well  known  to  require  recital  here.  But  with  respect  to 


352 


BARRINGTON'S  RECOLLECTIONS. 


her  more  private  memoirs,  so  much  falsehood  and  exaggera- 
tion have  gone  abroad — so  many  circumstances  have  been 
distorted,  and  so  many  facts  invented,  some  of  the  latter 
possessing  sufficient  plausibility  to  deceive  even  the  most 
wary — that,  if  not  a duty,  it  appears  at  least  praiseworthy  to 
aim  at  the  refutation  of  such  calumnies. 

I have  ever  felt  a great  abhorrence  of  the  system  of 
defamation  on  hearsay.  Public  men,  as  such , may  properly 
be  commented  on.  It  is  the  birthright  of  the  British  people 
to  speak  fairly  their  sentiments  of  those  who  rule  them  ; but 
libel  on  private  reputation  is  a disgusting  excrescence  upon 
the  body  of  political  freedom,  and  has  latterly  grown  to  an 
extent  so  dangerous  to  individuals,  and  so  disgraceful  to  the 
press  at  large,  that  it  may  hereafter  afford  plausible  pretences 
for  curtailing  the  liberty  of  that  organ — the  pure  and  legal 
exercise  of  which  is  the  proudest  and  surest  guardian  of 
British  freedom.  The  present  lax,  unrestrained,  and  vicious 
exuberance  of  the  periodical  press  stamps  the  United  King- 
dom as  the  very  focus  of  libel  and  defamation  in  all  their 
ramifications.  No  reputation,  no  rank,  no  character,  public 
or  private,  neither  the  living  nor  the  dead,  can  escape  from 
its  licentiousness.  One  comfort  may  be  drawn  from  the 
reflection,  that  it  can  proceed  no  further  ; its  next  move- 
ment must  be  a retrograde  one,  and  I trust  the  legislature 
will  not  permit  this  retrogression  to  be  long  deferred. 

That  spirit  of  licentiousness  I have  been  endeavouring  to 
stigmatise  was  never  more  clearly  instanced  than  by  the 
indefatigable  and  reiterated  attempts,  for  several  years  per- 
severed in,  to  disparage  the  private  reputation  of  a royal 
personage,  whose  domestic  habits  and  whose  wise  and 
commendable  abstinence  from  political  party  and  conflicting 
factions  should  have  exempted  him  from  the  pen  and  from 
the  tongue  of  misrepresentation,  and  rendered  sacred  a 
character  which  only  requires  development  to  stand  as  high 
in  the  estimation  of  every  man  who  regards  the  general 


MRS.  JORDAN. 


353 


happiness  and  power  of  the  empire  as  that  of  any  member 
of  the  illustrious  house  from  which  its  owner  springs.  On 
this  point  I speak  not  lightly  ; that  which  I state  is  neither 
the  mere  effusion  of  gratitude  nor  the  meanness  of  adulation. 
The  royal  personage  I allude  to  would  not  commend  me  for 
the  one,  nor  would  I demean  myself  by  the  other. 

I cannot  conclude  this  digression  without  reprobating  in 
no  measured  terms  that  most  dangerous  of  all  calumnious 
tendencies  which  endeavours  systematically  to  drag  down 
the  highest  ranks  to  the  level  of  the  lowest,  and  by  labouring 
to  excite  a democratic  contempt  of  royal  personages, 
gradually  saps  the  very  foundation  of  constitutional  alle- 
giance. Such,  however,  has  been  a practice  of  the  day, 
exercised  with  all  the  rancour,  but  without  any  portion  of 
the  ability  of  Junius. 

It  is  deeply  to  be  lamented  that  this  system  has  been 
exemplified  by  some  individuals  whose  literary  celebrity 
might  have  well  afforded  them  the  means  of  creditable  sub- 
sistence without  endeavouring  to  force  into  circulation  works 
of  mercenary  penmanship  by  wanton  slander  of  the  very 
highest  personage  in  the  united  empire.  I specify  no  name, 
I designate  no  facts  ; if  they  exist  not,  it  is  unimportant  ; if 
they  are  notorious,  the  application  will  not  be  difficult.  It 
is  true  that  a libeller  cannot  fully  atone,  yet  he  may  repent  ; 
and  even  that  mortification  would  be  a better  penance  to 
any  calumniator  of  distinguished  talent  than  to  run  the  risk 
of  being  swamped  between  the  Scylla  and  Charybdis  of 
frivolity  and  disaffection. 

But  to  return  to  the  accomplished  subject  of  my  sketch. 
I have  seen  her,  as  she  called  it,  on  a cruise — that  is,  at  a 
provincial  theatre  (Liverpool) — having  gone  over  once  from 
Dublin  for  that  purpose  ; she  was  not  then  in  high  spirits  ; 
indeed,  her  tone  in  this  respect  was  not  uniform  ; in  the 
mornings  she  usually  seemed  depressed,  at  noon  she  went 
to  rehearsal — came  home  fatigued,  dined  at  three,  and  then 


354 


Barrington’s  recollections. 


reclined  in  her  chamber  till  it  was  time  to  dress  for  the  per- 
formance. She  generally  went  to  the  theatre  low-spirited. 

I once  accompanied  Mrs.  Jordan  to  the  green-room  at 
Liverpool.  Mrs.  Alsop  and  her  old  maid  assiduously 
attended  her.  She  went  thither  languid  and  apparently 
reluctant,  but  in  a quarter  of  an  hour  her  very  nature 
seemed  to  undergo  a metamorphosis.  The  sudden  change 
of  her  manner  appeared  to  me,  in  fact,  nearly  miraculous. 
She  walked  spiritedly  across  the  stage  two  or  three  times,  as 
if  to  measure  its  extent  ; and  the  moment  her  foot  touched 
the  scenic  boards  her  spirit  seemed  to  be  legenerated.  She 
cheered  up,  hummed  an  air,  stepped  light  and  quick,  and 
every  symptom  of  depression  vanished.  The  comic  eye 
and  cordial  laugh  returned  upon  their  enchanting  mistress, 
and  announced  that  she  felt  herself  moving  in  her  proper 
element.  Her  attachment  to  the  practice  of  her  profession, 
in  fact,  exceeded  anything  I could  conceive. 

Mrs.  Jordan  delighted  in  talking  over  past  events.  She 
had  strong  impressions  of  everything,  and  I could  per- 
ceive was  often  influenced  rather  by  her  feelings  than  her 
judgment. 

“ How  happens  it,”  said  I to  her,  when  last  in  Dublin, 
“ that  you  still  exceed  all  your  profession,  even  in  characters 
not  so  adapted  to  you  now  as  when  I first  saw  you  ? How 
do  you  contrive  to  be  so  buoyant,  nay,  so  childish  on  the 
stage,  whilst  you  lose  half  your  spirits  and  degenerate  into 
gravity  the  moment  you  are  off  it  ? ” 

“ Old  habits,”  replied  Mrs.  Jordan,  “ old  habits.  Had  I 
formerly  studied  my  positions,  weighed  my  words,  and 
measured  my  sentences,  I should  have  been  artificial,  and 
they  might  have  hissed  me.  So,  when  I had  got  the  words 
well  by  heart,  I told  Nature  I was  then  at  her  service  to  do 
whatever  she  thought  proper  with  my  feet,  legs,  hands,  arms, 
and  features.  To  her  I left  the  whole  matter.  I became, 
in  fact,  merely  her  puppet,  and  never  interfered  further 


MRS.  JORDAN. 


355 


myself  in  the  business.  I heard  the  audience  laugh  at  me, 
and  I laughed  at  myself.  They  laughed  again,  so  did  I ; 
and  they  gave  me  credit  for  matters  I knew  very  little  about, 
and  for  which  Dame  Nature,  not  I,  should  have  received 
their  approbation. 

“ The  best  rule  for  a performer  is  to  forget,  if  possible, 
that  any  audience  is  listening.  We  perform  best  of  all  in 
our  closets,  and  next  best  to  crowded  houses.  But  I scarcely 
ever  saw  a good  performer  who  was  always  eyeing  the 
audience.  “ If,”  continued  she,  “ half  the  gesticulation,  half 
the  wit,  drollery,  and  anecdote  which  I heard  amongst  you 
all  at  Curran’s  Priory,  at  Grattan’s  Cottage,  and  at  your 
house,  had  been  displayed  before  an  audience  without  your 
knowing  that  anybody  was  listening  to  you , the  performance 
would  have  been  cheered  as  one  of  the  finest  pieces  of  comic 
acting  possible,  though,  in  fact,  your  only  plot  was  endea- 
vouring to  get  tipsy  as  agreeably  as  you  could.” 

The  last  visit  of  Mrs.  Jordan  to  the  Irish  capital  took 
place  in  the  year  1809,  and  afforded  me  a still  better  oppor- 
tunity of  eliciting  any  trait  of  her  nature  or  disposition.  She 
was  greeted  in  that  metropolis  with  all  the  acclamations  that 
her  reputation  and  talent  so  fully  merited.  She  was  well 
received  also  amongst  some  of  the  best  society  in  Dublin, 
whose  curiosity  was  excited  beyond  measure  to  converse 
with  her  in  private.  Here,  however,  she  disappointed  all  ; 
and  the  animated,  lively,  brilliant  mimic  on  the  boards  was, 
in  the  saloon,  retiring,  quiet,  nay,  almost  reserved.  Mrs. 
Jordan,  in  fact,  seldom  spoke  much  in  company  ; but 
then  she  spoke  well.  She  made  no  exertion  to  appear 
distinguished,  and  became  more  so  by  the  absence  of 
effort.  The  performer  was  wholly  merged  in  the  gentle- 
woman ; and  thus,  although  on  her  entrance  this  cele- 
brated person  failed  to  impress  the  company,  she  never 
failed  to  retire  in  possession  of  their  respect. 

On  that  tour  she  told  me  she  was  very  ill-treated  by  the 


356 


BARRINGTON’S  RECOLLECTIONS. 


manager.  The  understanding  was,  that  Mrs.  Jordan  was  to 
receive  half  the  profits  ; yet,  although  the  houses  were 
invariably  crowded,  the  receipts  were  quite  inadequate. 
Many  of  the  performers  who  had  been  appointed  to  act 
with  her  were  below  mediocrity,  and  her  presence  alone 
saved  them  from  being  scouted.  One  was  forgetful,  another 
drunk.  I confess  I never  myself  saw  such  a crew.  All 
this  rendered  Mrs.  Jordan  miserable,  and  she  sought  relief 
in  the  exercise  of  her  benevolent  feelings.  Among  other 
objects  of  her  bounty  was  an  old  actor  called  Barrett,  who 
had  played  on  the  night  of  her  debut , and  was  then  in  most 
indigent  circumstances.  Him  she  made  comfortable,  and 
gave  efficient  assistance  to  several  others  whom  she  had 
known  in  former  years. 

The  managers,  I know  not  why,  acted  to  her  without  the 
respect  which  everybody , except  themselves,  had  shewn  that 
most  amiable  of  human  beings.  She  had  found  it  absolutely 
necessary  to  refuse  acting  with  one  or  two  vulgar,  drunken 
fellows,  belonging  to  the  set  whom  they  had  selected  to 
sustain  her  ; and  she  quitted  the  country  at  length,  having 
formed  a fixed  determination  never  to  repeat  any  engage- 
ment with  the  persons  who  then  managed  the  theatricals  of 
Dublin. 

She  had  scarcely  arrived  in  England  when  some  of  the 
parties,  including  one  Mr.  Dwyer,  a player,  quarrelled  ; and 
actions  for  defamation  were  brought  forward  amongst  them. 
A man  of  the  name  of  Corri  also  published  periodical  libels, 
in  one  of  which  he  paid  Mrs.  Jordan  the  compliment  of 
associating  her  with  the  Duchess  of  Gordon.  I and  my 
family  had  likewise  the  honour  of  partaking  in  the  abuse  of 
that  libel,  and  I prosecuted  the  printer.  On  the  trial  of  the 
cause  one  of  the  counsel,  Mr.  Thomas  (now  Serjeant)  Gold, 
thought  proper  to  indulge  himself  in  language  and  state- 
ments respecting  Mrs.  Jordan  neither  founded  in  fact  nor 
delicate  in  a gentleman.  In  cross-examining  me  as  a 


MRS.  JORDAN. 


357 


witness  on  the  prosecution  of  the  printer,  he  essayed  a 
line  of  interrogation  disparaging  to  the  character  of  that 
lady  ; but  that  learned  person  always  took  care  not  to  go  too 
far  with  me,  or  to  risk  offending  me  in  my  presence.  A 
monosyllable,  or  an  intimation  even,  I ever  found  quite 
sufficient  to  check  the  exuberance  of  “ my  learned  friend  ” ; 
and  on  this  occasion  he  was  not  backward  in  taking  my  hint. 
He  grew  tame.  The  libeller  was  found  guilty,  and  justly 
sentenced  to  a protracted  imprisonment. 

I never  knew  Mrs.  Jordan  feel  so  much  as  at  the  wanton 
conduct  of  Mr.  Thomas  Gold  on  that  occasion.  His  speech, 
as  it  appeared  in  the  newspapers,  was  too  gross  even  for  the 
vulgarest  declaimer  ; but  when  Mrs.  Jordan’s  situation,  her 
family,  and  her  merits  were  considered,  it  was  altogether 
inexcusable.  I do  not  state  this  feeling  of  Mrs.  Jordan 
solely  from  my  own  impression.  I received  from  her  a letter 
indicative  of  the  anguish  which  that  gentleman  had  excited 
in  her  feelings,  and  I should  do  injustice  to  her  memory  if  I 
did  not  publish  her  justification  : 

“ Bushy  House,  Wednesday. 

“ My  dear  Sir, 

“ Not  having  the  least  suspicion  of  the  business 
in  Dublin,  it  shocked  and  grieved  me  very  much,  not  only 
on  my  own  account,  but  I regret  that  I should  have  been 
the  involuntary  cause  of  anything  painful  to  you  or  to  your 
amiable  family.  But  of  Mr.  Jones  I can  think  anything  ; 
and  I beg  you  will  do  me  the  justice  to  believe  that  my 
feelings  are  not  selfish.  Why,  indeed,  should  I expect  to 
escape  their  infamous  calumnies  ? Truth,  however,  will 
force  its  way,  and  justice  exterminate  that  nest  of  vipers.  I 
wanted  nothing  from  Mr.  Crompton’s  generosity,  but  I had 
a claim  on  his  justice,  his  honour  * * * 

“ During  the  two  representations  of  The  Inconstant , I 
represented  to  him  the  state  Mr.  Dwyer  was  in,  and  im- 


358 


Barrington’s  recollections. 


plored  him,  out  of  respect  to  the  audience,  if  not  in  pity  to 
my  terrors,  to  change  the  play.  As  to  the  libel  on  Mr. 
Dwyer,  charged  to  me  by  Mr.  Gold,  I never  directly  or 
indirectly,  by  words  or  by  writing,  demeaned  myself  by 
interfering  in  the  most  remote  degree  with  so  wretched  a 
concern.  I knew  no  editor — I read  no  newspapers  whilst 
in  Dublin.  The  charge  is  false  and  libellous  on  me,  pub- 
lished, I presume,  through  Mr.  Gold’s  assistance.  Under 
that  view  of  the  case  he  will  feel  himself  rather  unpleasantly 
circumstanced,  should  I call  upon  him  either  to  prove  or 
disavow  his  assertions.  To  be  introduced  any  way  into  such 
a business  shocks  and  grieves  me.  He  might  have  pleaded 
for  his  companions  without  calumniating  me  ; but  for  the 
present  I shall  drop  an  irksome  subject,  which  has  already 
given  me  more  than  ordinary  uneasiness. — Yours,  etc., 

“ Dora  Jordan.” 

She  requested  my  advice  as  to  bringing  an  action  for 
defamation.  My  reply  was  one  that  I had  heard  most 
adroitly  given  by  Sir  John  Doyle  upon  another  occasion  : 
“ If  you  wrestle  with  a chimney-sweeper,  it  is  true  you  may 
throw  your  antagonist,  but  your  own  coat  will  certainly  be 
dirtied  by  the  encounter.” 

Never  was  there  a better  aphorism.  Mrs.  Jordan  took 
my  advice,  and  satisfied  herself  with  despising  instead  of 
punishing  her  calumniators. 

I have  seen  this  accomplished  woman  at  Bushy  in  the 
midst  of  one  of  the  finest  families  in  England,  surrounded 
by  splendour,  beloved,  respected,  and  treated  with  all  the 
deference  paid  to  a member  of  high  life.  I could  perceive, 
indeed,  no  offset  to  her  comforts  and  gratification.  She  was 
in  my  hearing  frequently  solicited  by  the  royal  personage  to 
retire  from  her  profession ; she  was  urged  to  forego  all  further 
emoluments  from  its  pursuit  ; and  this  single  fact  gives  the 


MRS.  JORDAN. 


359 


contradiction  direct  to  reports  which  I should  feel  it  improper 
even  to  allude  to  further.  Her  constant  reply  was  that  she 
would  retire  when  Mrs.  Siddons  did  ; but  that  her  losses  by 
the  fire  at  Covent  Garden,  together  with  other  incidental 
outgoings,  had  been  so  extensive  as  to  induce  her  con- 
tinuance of  the  profession  to  replace  her  finances.  Her 
promise  to  retire  with  Mrs.  Siddons,  however,  she  did  not  act 
up  to,  but  continued  to  gratify  the  public,  with  enormous 
profit  to  herself,  down  to  the  very  last  year  she  remained  in 
England.  It  is  matter  of  fact,  too,  though  perhaps  here  out 
of  place,  that,  so  far  from  a desertion  of  this  lady  by  that 
royal  personage,  as  falsely  reported,  to  the  last  hour  of  her 
life  his  solicitude  was  undiminished  ; and  though  separated 
by  her  own  desire,  for  causes  not  discreditable  to  either,  he 
never  lost  sight  of  her  interest  or  her  comforts.  It  was  not 
the  nature  of  His  Royal  Highness — he  was  incapable  of  that 
little  less  than  crime  towards  Mrs.  Jordan,  which  had  indeed 
no  foundation,  save  in  the  vicious  representation  of  hungry 
or  avaricious  editors,  or  in  the  scurrility  of  those  hackneyed 
and  indiscriminate  enemies  of  rank  and  reputation,  whose 
aspersions  are  equally  a disgrace  and  an  injury  to  the  country 
wherein  they  are  tolerated. 

To  contribute  towards  the  prevention  of  all  further  doubt 
as  to  Mrs.  Jordan's  unmixed  happiness  at  the  period  of  her 
residence  at  Bushy,  as  well  as  to  exhibit  the  benevolence  of 
her  heart  and  the  warmth  of  her  attachments,  I will  introduce 
at  this  point  extracts  from  some  other  letters  addressed  to 
myself  : 

“ Bushy. 

“ My  dear  Sir, 

“ I cannot  resist  the  pleasure  of  informing  you 
that  your  dear  boy  has  not  only  passed,  but  passed  with  great 
credit,  at  the  Military  College.  It  gives  us  all  the  highest 
satisfaction.  My  two  beloved  boys  are  now  at  home  ; they 
have  both  gone  to  South-Hill  to  see  your  Edward.  We 


Barrington’s  recollections. 


360 

shall  have  a full  and  merry  house  at  Christmas  ; ’tis  what 
the  dear  duke  delights  in — a happier  set,  when  altogether,  I 
believe  never  yet  existed.  The  ill-natured  parts  of  the  world 
never  can  enjoy  the  tranquil  pleasures  of  domestic  happiness. 

“ I have  made  two  most  lucrative  trips  since  I saw  you. 
Adkinson  came  to  see  me  at  Liverpool — quite  as  poetical  as 
ever,  and  the  best-natured  poet  I believe  in  the  world. 

“ Yours,  ever  truly, 

“ Dora  Jordan.” 

“ Bushy. 

“ My  dear  Sir, 

“ I have  returned  here  on  the  7th  inst.,  after  a 
very  fatiguing,  though  very  prosperous,  cruise  of  five  weeks, 
and  found  all  as  well  as  I could  wish.  Your  Edward  left  us 
this  morning  for  Marlow  ; I found  him  improved  in  every- 
thing. I never  saw  the  duke  enjoy  anything  more  than  the 
poultry  you  sent  us  ; they  were  delicious  ; he  desires  me  to 
offer  his  best  regards  to  yourself  and  your  ladies.  Lucy 
is  gone  on  a visit  to  Lady  De  Ross. 

“ Yours,  most  truly, 

“ Dora  Jordan.” 

“ Bushy. 

“ My  dear  Sir, 

“ I have  returned  here  ; but,  alas  ! the  happiness 
I had  promised  to  myself  has  met  a cruel  check  at  finding  the 
good  duke  very  unwell.  You  can  scarcely  conceive  my 
misery  at  the  cause  of  such  a disappointment,  but  there  is 
every  appearance  of  a favourable  result  not  being  very 
distant.  ’Tis  his  old  periodical  attack,  but  not  near  so 
severe  as  I have  seen  it.  I shall  not  write  to  you  as  I 


MRS.  JORDAN. 


361 


intended  till  I can  announce  His  Royal  Highness’s  recovery. 
I shall  have  neither  head  nor  nerves  to  write,  or  even  to 
think,  till  I am  able  to  contribute  to  your  pleasure  by 
announcing  my  own  happiness  and  his  recovery. 


“ Dora  Jordan. 

“ Sir  J.  Barrington, 

“ Merrion  Square,  Dublin.” 

“ Bushy. 

“ We  have  just  returned  from  Maidenhead,  and  I post- 
poned writing  to  you  till  I could  give  you  an  account  of 
Edward,  who,  with  Colonel  Butler,  dined  with  us  there. 
He  looks  wonderfully  well,  and  the  uniform  becomes  him 
extremely.  On  the  ladies  leaving  the  room  Colonel  Butler 
gave  the  duke  a very  favourable  account  of  him,  and  I trust 
it  will  give  you  and  Lady  Barrington  the  more  satisfaction 
when  I assure  you  that  it  is  by  no  means  a partial  account. 

“ I am  sure  you  will  be  pleased  to  hear  that  your  young 
friend  Lucy  is  about  to  be  married,  much  to  my  satisfaction, 
to  Colonel  Hawker,  of  the  14th  Dragoons.  He  is  a most 
excellent  man,  and  has  a very  good  private  property.  She 
will  make  the  best  of  wives  ; a better  girl  never  yet  lived  ; it 
makes  me  quite  happy,  and  I intend  to  give  her  the  value  of 
£10,000. 

“ . . . . etc., 

“ Dora  Jordan.” 


The  days  of  Mrs.  Jordan  continued  to  pass  on  alternately 
in  the  exercise  of  a lucrative  profession  and  the  domestic 
enjoyment  of  an  adoring  family,  when  circumstances  (which, 
because  mysterious , the  public  construed  necessarily  to  imply 
culpability  somewhere  or  other)  occasioned  a separation, 
certainly  an  event  most  unexpected  by  those  who  had  pre- 
viously known  the  happy  state  of  her  connexion.  In  me  it 
would  be  worse  than  presumption  to  enter  into  any  detail  on 


362 


Barrington’s  recollections. 


a subject  at  once  so  private,  so  delicate,  and  so  interesting. 
Suffice  it  to  say,  that  of  all  the  accounts  and  surmises  as  to 
that  event  in  which  the  public  prints  were  pleased  to  indulge 
themselves,  not  one  that  came  under  my  eye  was  true  ; 
indeed,  there  was  scarcely  a single  incident  whereto  that 
separation  was  publicly  attributed  that  had  any  degree  of 
foundation  whatsoever.  Such  circumstances  should  ever 
remain  known  only  to  those  who  feel  the  impropriety  of 
amusing  the  readers  at  a news-room  with  subjects  of  domestic 
pain  and  family  importance.  I will,  however,  repeat  that  the 
separation  took  effect  from  causes  no  way  dishonourable  to 
either  party  ; that  it  was  not  sought  for  by  the  royal  person- 
age, nor  necessary  on  the  part  of  the  lady.  It  was  too  hasty 
to  be  discreet,  and  too  much  influenced  by  feelings  of  the 
moment  to  be  hearty.  Though  not  unacquainted  with  those 
circumstances,  I never  presumed  to  make  an  observation 
upon  the  subject,  save  to  contradict,  in  direct  terms,  state- 
ments which,  at  the  time  I heard  them,  I knew  to  be  totally 
unfounded  ; and  never  was  the  British  press  more  prosti- 
tuted than  in  the  malicious  colouring  given  upon  that 
occasion  to  the  conduct  of  His  Royal  Highness. 

General  Hawker,  one  of  the  late  king’s  aids-de-camp,  had 
married  Miss  Jordan  ; and  in  the  punctilious  honour  and 
integrity  of  this  gentleman  everybody  who  knew  and  knows 
him  did  and  does  rely  with  unmixed  confidence.  Such 
reliance  His  Royal  Highness  evinced  by  sending,  through 
him,  carte  blanche  to  Mrs.  Jordan  when  the  separation  had 
been  determined  on,  enabling  her  to  dictate  whatever  she 
conceived  would  be  fully  adequate  to  her  maintenance, 
without  recurrence  to  her  profession,  in  all  the  comforts  and 
luxuries  to  which  she  had  been  so  long  accustomed  ; and 
everything  she  wished  for  was  arranged  to  her  satisfaction. 
Still,  however,  infatuated  with  attachment  to  theatrical  pur- 
suits, she  continued  to  accept  of  temporary  engagements,  to 
her  great  profit ; and  it  will  perhaps  scarcely  be  credited 


MRS.  JORDAN. 


363 


that  so  unsated  were  British  audiences  with  Mrs.  Jordan ,s 
unrivalled  performances,  that  even  at  her  time  of  life,  with 
certainly  diminished  powers  and  an  altered  person,  the  very 
last  year  she  remained  in  England  brought  her  a clear  profit 
of  near  £7,000.  I cannot  be  mistaken  in  this  statement,  for 
my  authority  could  not  err  on  that  point.  The  malicious 
representations,  therefore,  of  her  having  been  left  straitened 
in  pecuniary  circumstances  were  literally  fabulous  ; for  to  the 
very  moment  of  her  death  she  remained  in  full  possession  of 
all  the  means  of  comfort — nay,  if  she  chose  it,  of  luxury  and 
splendour.  Why,  therefore,  she  emigrated,  pined  away,  and 
expired  in  a foreign  country,  of  whose  language  she  was 
ignorant,  and  in  whose  habits  she  was  wholly  unversed,  with 
every  appearance  of  necessity,  is  also  considered  a mystery 
by  those  unacquainted  with  the  cruel  and  disastrous  circum- 
stances which  caused  that  unfortunate  catastrophe.  It  is 
not  by  my  pen  that  miserable  story  shall  be  told.  It  was  a 
transaction  wherein  her  royal  friend  had,  directly  or  indirectly , 
no  concern,  nor  did  it  in  any  way  spring  out  of  that  con- 
nexion. She  had,  in  fact,  only  to  accuse  herself  of  bene- 
volence, confidence,  and  honour  ; to  those  demerits , and  to 
the  worse  than  ingratitude  of  others,  she  fell  a lingering, 
broken-hearted  victim. 

When  His  Royal  Highness  was  informed  of  the  determina- 
tion that  Mrs.  Jordan  should  take  up  a temporary  residence 
on  the  Continent,  he  insisted  on  her  retaining  the  attendance 
of  Miss  Ketchley,  who  for  many  years  had  been  attached  to 
the  establishment  at  Bushy,  and  was  superintendent  and 
governess  of  the  duke’s  children.  This  lady,  therefore, 
whose  sincere  attachment  had  been  so  long  and  truly  proved, 
accompanied  Mrs.  Jordan  as  her  companion,  and  to  the 
time  of  her  death  continued  to  administer  to  her  comforts, 
endeavouring,  so  far  as  in  her  lay,  by  her  society  and  atten- 
tions, to  solace  the  mental  misery  which  pressed  upon  her 
friend’s  health  and  had  extinguished  her  spirits.  She  was 


36-v  Barrington’s  recollections. 

also  accompanied  by  Colonel  Hawker,  the  general’s  brother  ; 
but  as  she  wished  during  her  residence  in  France  to  be 
totally  retired,  she  took  no  suite.  She  selected  Boulogne  as 
a place  of  convenient  proximity  to  England  ; and  in  a 
cottage  about  half  a mile  from  that  town  awaited  with 
indescribable  anxiety  the  completion  of  those  affairs  which 
had  occasioned  her  departure,  rapturously  anticipating 
the  happiness  of  embracing  her  children  afresh  after  a 
painful  absence. 


MRS.  JORDAN  IN  FRANCE. 


365 


CHAPTER  XLII. 

MRS.  JORDAN  IN  FRANCE. 

Such  was  the  nature  of  the  circumstances  which  impelled 
Mrs.  Jordan  to  repair  to  the  Continent  ; and  after  what  has 
been  said,  the  reader  will  not  think  it  extraordinary  that  a 
deep  impression  was  made  upon  her  health — not,  indeed, 
in  the  shape  of  actual  disease,  but  by  the  workings  of  a 
troubled  spirit,  pondering  and  drooping  over  exaggerated 
misfortunes,  and  encountering  obstacle  after  obstacle. 
Estranged  from  those  she  loved,  as  also  from  that  pro- 
fession, the  resort  to  which  had  never  failed  to  restore  her 
animation  and  amuse  her  fancy,  mental  malady  soon  com- 
municated its  contagion  to  the  physical  organisation,  and 
sickness  began  to  make  visible  inroads  on  the  heretofore 
healthy  person  of  that  lamented  lady. 

We  have  seen  that  she  established  herself  in  the  first  place 
at  Boulogne-sur-Mer.  A cottage  was  selected  by  her  at 
Marquetra,  about  a quarter  of  a mile  from  the  gate  of  the 
fortress.  Often  have  I since,  as  if  on  classic  ground,  strolled 
down  the  little  garden  which  had  been  there  her  greatest 
solace.  The  cottage  is  very  small,  but  neat,  commodious, 
and  of  a cheerful  aspect.  A flower  and  fruit  garden  of 
corresponding  dimensions,  and  a little  paddock,  comprising 
less  than  half  an  acre,  formed  her  demesne.  In  an  adjoin- 
ing cottage  resided  her  old  landlady,  Madame  Ducamp, 
who  was  in  a state  of  competence,  and  altogether  an  original. 
She  had  married  a gardener,  much  younger  and  of  humbler 
birth  than  herself.  I think  she  had  been  once  handsome. 
Her  story  I never  heard  fully,  but  it  appeared  that  she  had 
flourished  during  the  Revolution.  She  spoke  English  well 
when  she  pleased  ; and,  like  most  Frenchwoman,  when 


366  barkington’s  recollections. 

d'age  mur , was  querulous,  intrusive,  and  curious  beyond 
limitation , with  as  much  professed  good-nature  as  would 
serve  at  least  fifty  of  our  old  English  gentlewomen.  She 
was  not,  in  good  truth,  devoid  of  the  reality  as  well  as  the 
semblance  of  that  quality  ; but  she  overacted  the  philan- 
thropist, and  consequently  did  not  deceive  those  accustomed 
to  look  lower  than  the  surface.  This  good  lady  is  still 
in  statu  quo , and  most  likely  to  remain  so. 

Under  colour  of  taking  her  vacant  cottage  for  a friend,  a 
party  of  us  went  to  Marquetra,  to  learn  what  we  could 
respecting  Mrs.  Jordan’s  residence  there.  The  old  lady 
recognised  her  name,  but  pronounced  it  in  a way  which  it 
was  scarcely  possible  for  us  to  recognise.  A long  conversa- 
tion ensued,  in  some  parts  as  deeply  interesting,  and  in 
others  nearly  as  ludicrous  as  the  subject  could  admit  of. 
Madame  Ducamp  repeated  to  us  a hundred  times  in  five 
minutes  that  she  had  “ beaucoup,  beaucoup  de  veneration 
pour  cette  chere,  chere  malheureuse  dame  Anglaise  ! ” 
whom  she  assured  us  with  a deep  sigh  was  “ sans  doute  un 
ange  superieur  ! ” She  was  proceeding  to  tell  us  every- 
thing she  knew,  or  I suppose  could  invent,  when,  perceiving 
a child  in  the  garden  pulling  the  flowers,  she  abruptly  dis- 
continued her  eulogium,  and  ran  off  to  drive  away  the 
intruder — having  done  which,  she  returned  to  resume  ; 
but  too  late  ! in  her  absence  her  place  had  been  fully  and 
fairly  occupied  by  Agnes,  an  ordinary  French  girl,  Madame 
Ducamp ’s  bonne  (servant  of  all  work),  whom  we  soon  found 
was  likely  to  prove  a much  more  truth-telling  person  than 
her  mistress. 

Agnes  informed  us  with  great  feeling  that  “ the  economy 
of  that  charming  lady  was  very  strict  : necessairement  je 
crains ,”  she  added,  with  a slow  movement  of  her  head  and  a 
truly  eloquent  look.  They  had  found  out,  she  said,  that 
their  lodger  had  been  once  riche  et  magnifique , but  when 
there  she  was  very , very  poor  indeed.  “ But,”  exclaimed  the 


MRS.  JORDAN  IN  FRANCE. 


367 


poor  girl,  her  eye  brightening  up  and  her  tone  becoming 
firmer,  “ that  could  make  no  difference  to  me  ! si  faime , 
/’  aime  ! Jy  at  servi  cette  paume  dame  avec  le  meme  zele  ( peut - 
etre  encore  plus)  que  si  elle  eut  ete  une  princesse  ! ” 

This  frank-hearted  display  of  poor  Agnes’s  sentiments 
was,  however,  not  in  fact  called  for  in  speaking  of  Mrs. 
Jordan,  since  she  might  have  commanded,  during  the  whole 
period  of  her  continental  residence,  any  sums  she  thought 
proper.  She  had  money  in  the  bank,  in  the  funds,  and  in 
miscellaneous  property,  and  had  just  before  received  several 
thousands.  But  she  was  become  nearly  careless  as  well  of 
pecuniary  as  other  matters,  and  took  up  a whim  (for  it  was 
nothing  more)  to  affect  poverty,  thus  deceiving  the  world, 
and  giving  herself  a vantage-ground  to  the  gossiping  and 
censorious. 

Agnes’s  information  went  on  to  shew  that  Mrs.  Jordan’s 
whole  time  was  passed  in  anxious  expectation  of  letters  from 
England,  and  on  the  English  post-days  she  was  peculiarly 
miserable.  We  collected  from  the  girl  that  her  garden  and 
guitar  were  her  only  resources  against  that  consuming  melan- 
choly which  steals  away  even  the  elements  of  existence,  and 
plunges  both  body  and  mind  into  a state  of  morbid  languor 
— the  fruitful  parent  of  disease,  insanity,  and  death. 

At  this  point  of  the  story  Madame  Ducamp  would  no 
longer  be  restrained,  and  returned  to  the  charge  with  re- 
doubled assertions  of  her  own  friendship  to  “ the  poor  lady,” 
and  bonne  nature  in  general. 

“ Did  you  know  her,  Monsieur  ? ” said  she  ; “ alas  ! she 
nearly  broke  my  heart  by  trying  to  break  her  own” 

“ I have  heard  of  her  since  I arrived  here,  madame,” 
replied  I,  cautiously. 

“ Ah  ! Monsieur,  Monsieur,”  rejoined  Madame  Ducamp, 
“ if  you  had  known  her  as  well  as  Agnes  and  I did,  you 
would  have  loved  her  just  as  much.  I am  sure  she  had  been 
accustomed  to  grandeur,  though  I could  never  clearly  make 


368 


Barrington’s  recollections. 


out  the  cause  of  her  reverses.  Ah  ! ” pursued  Madame, 
“ she  was  aimable  et  honnete  beyond  description  ; and  though 
so  very  poor , paid  her  louage  like  a goddess.”  At  this 
moment  some  other  matter,  perhaps  suggested  by  the  word 
louage , came  across  the  old  woman’s  brain,  and  she  again 
trotted  off.  The  remaining  intelligence  which  we  gathered 
from  Agnes  related  chiefly  to  Mrs.  Jordan’s  fondness  for 
music  and  perpetual  indulgence  therein  ; and  to  her  own 
little  achievements  in  the  musical  way,  whereby,  she  told  us, 
with  infinite  naivete,  she  had  frequently  experienced  the 
gratification  of  playing  and  singing  madame  to  sleep  ! She 
said  that  there  was  some  little  mutual  difficulty  in  the  first 
place  as  to  understanding  each  other,  since  the  stranger 
was  ignorant  of  the  French  language,  and  she  herself  “ had 
not  the  honour  ” to  speak  English.  “ However,”  continued 
Agnes,  “ we  formed  a sort  of  language  of  our  own,  consisting 
of  looks  and  signs,  and  in  these  madame  was  more  eloquent 
than  any  other  person  I had  ever  known.”  Here  the  girl’s 
recollections  seemed  fairly  to  overcome  her  ; and  with  that 
apparently  exaggerated  sensibility  which  is,  nevertheless, 
natural  to  the  character  of  her  country,  she  burst  into  tears, 
exclaiming,  “Oh  del!  oh  del! — elle  est  morte ! elle  est 
morte  ! ” 

I cannot  help  thinking  that  the  deep  and  indelible  im- 
pression thus  made  by  Mrs.  Jordan  upon  an  humble  un- 
sophisticated servant  girl  exemplifies  her  kind  and  winning 
manners  better  than  would  the  most  laboured  harangues  of 
a whole  host  of  biographers. 

Madame  Ducamp  meanwhile  had  been  fidgetting  about 
and  arranging  everything  to  shew  off  her  cottage  to  the 
greatest  advantage ; and  without  further  conversation,  except 
as  to  the  price  of  the  tenement,  we  parted  with  mutual 
“ assurances  of  the  highest  consideration.” 

I renewed  my  visits  to  the  old  woman  ; but  her  stories 
were  either  so  fabulous  or  disconnected,  and  those  of  Agnes 


MRS.  JORDAN  IN  FRANCE. 


369 


so  unvaried,  that  I saw  no  probability  of  acquiring  further 
information,  and  lost  sight  of  Mrs.  Jordan’s  situation  for  a 
considerable  time  after  her  departure  from  Boulogne.  I 
thought  it,  by-the-bye,  very  extraordinary  that  neither  the 
mistress  nor  maid  said  a word  about  any  attendant  of  Mrs. 
Jordan,  even  although  it  was  not  till  long  after  that  I heard 
of  Colonel  Hawker  and  Miss  Ketchley  having  accompanied 
her  from  England.  After  Mrs.  Jordan  had  left  Boulogne,  it 
appears  that  she  repaired  to  Versailles,  and  subsequently,  in 
still  greater  secrecy,  to  St.  Cloud,  where,  totally  secluded  and 
under  the  name  of  Johnson,  she  continued  to  await,  in  a 
state  of  extreme  depression  and  with  agitated  impatience, 
the  answer  to  some  letters  by  which  was  to  be  determined 
her  future  conduct  as  to  the  distressing  business  that  had 
led  her  to  the  Continent.  Her  solicitude  arose  not  so  much 
from  the  real  importance  of  this  affair  as  from  her  indigna- 
tion and  disgust  at  the  ingratitude  which  had  been  displayed 
towards  her,  and  which,  by  drawing  aside  the  curtain  from 
before  her  unwilling  eyes,  had  exposed  a novel  and  painful 
view  of  human  nature. 

I at  that  period  occupied  a large  hotel  adjoining  the 
Bois  de  Boulogne.  Not  a mile  intervened  between  us  ; yet, 
until  long  after  Mrs.  Jordan’s  decease,  I never  heard  she  was 
in  my  neighbourhood.  There  was  no  occasion  whatever  for 
such  entire  seclusion  ; but  the  anguish  of  her  mind  had  by 
this  time  so  enfeebled  her,  that  a bilious  complaint  was 
generated,  and  gradually  increased.  Its  growth,  indeed,  did 
not  appear  to  give  her  much  uneasiness,  so  dejected  and 
lost  had  she  become.  Day  after  day  her  misery  augmented, 
and  at  length  she  seemed,  we  were  told,  actually  to  regard 
the  approach  of  dissolution  with  a kind  of  placid  welcome  ! 

The  apartments  she  occupied  at  St.  Cloud  were  in  a house 
in  the  square  adjoining  the  palace.  This  house  was  large, 
gloomy,  cold,  and  inconvenient,  just  the  sort  of  place  which 
would  tell  in  description  in  a romance.  In  fact,  it  looked  to 

(D311)*  IB 


37° 


BARRINGTON’S  RECOLLECTIONS. 


me  almost  in  a state  of  dilapidation.  I could  not,  I am  sure, 
wander  over  it  at  night  without  a superstitious  feeling.  The 
rooms  were  very  numerous,  but  small ; the  furniture  scanty, 
old,  and  tattered.  The  hotel  had  obviously  once  belonged  to 
some  nobleman,  and  a long,  lofty,  flagged  gallery  stretched 
from  one  wing  of  it  to  the  other.  Mrs.  Jordan’s  chambers 
were  shabby  ; no  English  comforts  solaced  her  in  her  latter 
moments  ! In  her  little  drawing-room  a small  old  sofa  was 
the  best-looking  piece  of  furniture.  On  this  she  constantly 
reclined,  and  on  it  she  expired.* 

The  account  given  to  us  of  her  last  moments  by  the 
master  of  the  house  was  very  affecting.  He  likewise  thought 
she  was  poor,  and  offered  her  the  use  of  money,  which  offer 
was,  of  course,  declined.  Nevertheless,  he  said,  he  always 
considered  her  apparent  poverty,  and  a magnificent  diamond 
ring  which  she  constantly  wore,  as  quite  incompatible,  and 
to  him  inexplicable.  I have  happened  to  learn  since  that 
she  gave  four  hundred  guineas  for  that  superb  ring.  She 
had  also  with  her,  as  I heard,  many  other  valuable  trinkets  ; 
and  on  her  death  seals  were  put  upon  all  her  effects,  which 
I understand  still  remain  unclaimed  by  any  legal  heir. 

From  the  time  of  her  arrival  at  St.  Cloud,  it  appears  Mrs. 
Jordan  had  exhibited  the  most  restless  anxiety  for  intelli- 
gence from  England.  Every  post  gave  rise  to  increased 
solicitude,  and  every  letter  she  received  seemed  to  have  a 
different  effect  on  her  feelings.  Latterly  she  appeared  more 
anxious  and  miserable  than  usual ; her  uneasiness  increased 

* When  I saw  Mrs.  Jordan's  abode  at  St.  Cloud  first,  it  was  on  a 
dismal  and  chilly  day,  and  I was  myself  in  corresponding  mood.  Hence 
perhaps  every  cheerless  object  was  exaggerated,  and  I wrote  on  the  spot 
the  above  description.  I have  again  viewed  the  place  ; again  beheld 
with  melancholy  interest  the  scrfa  on  which  Mrs.  Jordan  breathed  her 
last.  There  it  still,  I believe,  remains  ; but  the  whole  premises  have 
been  repaired,  and  an  English  family  now  has  one  wing,  together  with 
an  excellent  garden,  before  overgrown  with  weeds.  The  two  melan- 
choly cypress-trees  I first  saw  there  yet  remain.  The  surrounding 
prospect  is  undoubtedly  very  fine  ; but  I would  not,  even  were  I made 
a present  of  that  mansion,  consent  to  reside  in  it  one  month. 


MRS.  JORDAN  IN  FRANCE. 


371 


almost  momentarily,  and  her  skin  became  wholly  dis- 
coloured. From  morning  till  night  she  lay  sighing  upon 
her  sofa. 

At  length  an  interval  of  some  posts  occurred  during  which 
she  received  no  answers  to  her  letters,  and  her  consequent 
anxiety,  my  informant  said,  seemed  too  great  for  mortal 
strength  to  bear  up  against.  On  the  morning  of  her  death 
this  impatient  feeling  reached  its  crisis.  The  agitation  was 
almost  fearful  ; her  eyes  were  now  restless,  now  fixed,  her 
motion  rapid  and  unmeaning,  and  her  whole  manner  seemed 
to  bespeak  the  attack  of  some  convulsive  paroxysm.  She 

eagerly  requested  Mr.  C , before  the  usual  hour  of 

delivery,  to  go  for  her  letters  to  the  post.  On  his  return 
she  started  up  and  held  out  her  hand,  as  if  impatient  to 
receive  them.  He  told  her  there  were  none.  She  stood  a 
moment  motionless,  looked  towards  him  with  a vacant  stare, 
held  out  her  hand  again,  as  if  by  an  involuntary  action, 
instantly  withdrew  it,  and  sank  back  upon  the  sofa  from 
which  she  had  arisen.  He  left  the  room  to  send  up  her 

attendant,  who,  however,  had  gone  out,  and  Mr.  C 

returned  himself  to  Mrs.  Jordan.  On  his  return  he  observed 
some  change  in  her  looks  that  alarmed  him  ; she  spoke  not 
a word,  but  gazed  at  him  steadfastly.  She  wept  not — no 
tear  flowed  ; her  face  was  one  moment  flushed  and  another 
livid  ; she  sighed  deeply,  and  her  heart  seemed  bursting. 

Mr.  C stood  uncertain  what  to  do  ; but  in  a minute  he 

heard  her  breath  drawn  more  hardly,  and,  as  it  were,  sob- 
bingly.  He  was  now  thoroughly  terrified  ; he  hastily 
approached  the  sofa,  and  leaning  over  the  unfortunate  lady, 
discovered  that  those  deep-drawn  sobs  had  immediately 
preceded  the  moment  of  Mrs.  Jordan’s  dissolution.  She 
was  already  no  more  ! 

Thus  terminated  the  worldly  career  of  a woman  at  the 
very  head  of  her  profession,  and  one  of  the  best-hearted  of 
her  sex  ! Thus  did  she  expire,  after  a life  of  celebrity  and 


372 


Barrington’s  recollections. 


magnificence,  in  exile  and  solitude,  and  literally  of  a broken 
heart  ! She  was  buried  by  Mr.  Forster,  now  chaplain  to  the 
ambassador. 

Our  informant  told  this  little  story  with  a feeling  which 
evidently  was  not  affected.  The  French  have  a mode  of 
narrating  even  trivial  matters  with  gesticulation  and  detail, 
whereby  they  are  impressed  on  your  memory.  The 
slightest  incident  they  repeat  with  emphasis  ; and  on  this 

occasion  Mr.  C completed  his  account  without  any 

of  those  digressions  in  which  his  countrymen  so  frequently 
indulge. 

Several  English  friends  at  Paris  a few  years  ago  entered 
into  a determination  to  remove  Mrs.  Jordan’s  body  to  Pere 
le  Chaise,  and  place  a marble  over  her  grave.  The  sub- 
scription, had  the  plan  been  proceeded  in,  would  have  been 
ample  ; but  some,  I think  rather  mistaken,  ideas  of  delicacy 
at  that  time  suspended  its  execution.  As  it  is,  I believe  I 
may  say,  “ Not  a stone  tells  where  she  lies  ! ” But,  spirit  of 
a gentle,  affectionate,  and  excellent  human  being  ! receive, 
if  permitted,  the  aspirations  breathed  by  one  who  knew  thy 
virtues,  and  who  regrets,  while  he  bows  to  the  mysterious 
Providence  which  doomed  them  to  so  sad  an  extinction,  for 
thy  eternal  repose  and  happiness  ! 


SCENES  AT  HAVRE  DE  GRACE. 


373 


CHAPTER  XLIII. 

SCENES  AT  HAVRE  DE  GRACE. 

On  the  abdication  of  the  Emperor  Napoleon,  in  the  year 
1814,  my  curiosity  was  greatly  excited  to  view  the  alteration 
which  different  revolutions,  a military  government,  and  a 
long-protracted  warfare  must  necessarily  have  made  in  the 
manners,  habits,  and  appearance  of  the  French  people.  My 
ardent  desire  to  see  the  Emperor  himself  had  been  defeated 
by  his  abdication,  and  no  hope  remained  to  me  of  ever 
enjoying  that  pleasure. 

The  Royal  Family  of  France  I had  the  honour  of  meeting 
often  in  society  during  the  long  visit  with  which  they 
favoured  the  British  nation ; the  last  time  was  at  Earl  Moira’s, 
one  of  their  most  zealous  friends.  My  curiosity  on  that 
score  was,  therefore,  quite  satisfied.  I had  also  known  many, 
and  had  formed  a very  decisive  opinion  as  to  most  of  their 
countrymen  who  had  like  themselves  emigrated  to  England  ; 
nor  has  the  experience  acquired  during  my  residence  in 
France  at  all  tended  to  alter  the  nature  of  that  opinion. 
Some  of  these  men  have,  I fear,  the  worst  memories  of  any 
people  existing  ! indeed,  it  should  seem  that  since  their 
return  home  they  must  have  drunk  most  plentifully  of  Lethe. 

I was  extremely  desirous  also  to  see  the  persons  who  had 
rendered  themselves  so  conspicuous  during  the  long  and 
mighty  struggle  wherein  the  destinies  of  Europe  were  all  at 
stake — the  great  heroes  both  of  the  field  and  cabinet  ; and 
therefore,  upon  the  restoration  of  King  Louis,  I determined 
to  visit  Paris,  the  rather  as  my  family  were  infected  with  the 
same  curiosity  as  myself. 

Accordingly  we  set  out  on  our  journey,  taking  Havre  de 
Grace  in  our  route  to  the  metropolis.  I was  then  in  a very 


374 


Barrington’s  recollections. 


declining  state  of  health,  and  consequently  unnerved  and 
incapable  of  much  energy  either  mental  or  corporeal.  On 
arriving  at  Havre,  I was  so  captivated  by  the  fine  air  and 
beautiful  situation  of  the  Coteau  d’Ingouville,  rising  im- 
mediately over  the  town,  that  we  determined  to  tarry  there 
a few  months  and  visit  Paris  in  the  spring,  when  my  health 
and  strength  should  be  renovated  ; and  never  did  any  person 
recover  both  so  rapidly  as  I did  during  the  short  period  of 
my  sojourn  on  that  spot. 

Doctor  Sorerie,  the  first  physician  at  Havre,  told  me  that 
he  divided  the  hill  of  Ingouville  into  three  medical  compart- 
ments : “ the  summit,”  said  he,  “ never  requires  the  aid  of 
a physician,  the  middle  portion  only  twice  a year,  the  base 
always .”  His  fanciful  estimate,  he  assured  me,  was  a 
perfectly  true  one  ; and  on  the  strength  of  that  assurance  I 
rented  the  beautiful  cottage  on  the  summit  of  the  hill,  called 
the  Pavilion  Poulet , now  occupied,  I believe,  by  the 
American  consul.  All  around  was  new  to  me  ; of  course,  I 
was  the  more  observing  ; and  the  result  of  my  observations 
was  that  I considered  Havre,  even  in  1815,  as  being  at  least 
a hundred  years  behind  England  in  everything.  Tea  was 
only  sold  there  as  a species  of  medicine  at  the  apothecaries’ 
shops,  and  articles  of  cotton  manufacture  were  in  general 
more  than  double  the  price  of  silk  fabrics.  The  market  was 
very  good  and  very  moderate,  the  hotels  most  execrable.  But 
the  most  provoking  of  all  things  which  I found  at  Havre  was 
the  rate  of  exchange  : the  utmost  I could  get  for  a one-pound 
Bank  of  England  note  was  sixteen  francs,  or  for  an  accepted 
banker’s  bill  sixteen  francs  and  a half  to  the  pound,  about 
fourteen  shillings  for  my  twenty.  This  kind  of  thing,  in 
profound  peace,  surprised  me,  and  the  more  particularly 
as  the  English  guinea  was  at  a premium,  and  the  smooth  * 
English  shilling  at  a high  premium. 

A visit  paid  to  the  Continent  after  so  very  long  an  exclusion 
really  made  one  feel  as  if  about  to  explore  a kind  of  terra 


SCENES  AT  HAVRE  DE  GRACE. 


375 


incognita,  and  gave  everything  a novel  and  perhaps  over- 
important  character  to  the  traveller.  In  a country  altogether 
strange  ordinary  occurrences  often  assume  the  dignity  of 
adventures,  and  incidents  which  at  home  would  scarcely 
have  been  noticed  become  invested  on  the  sudden  with  an 
air  of  interest.  Our  fellow-countrymen  are  too  apt  to  under- 
value everything  which  differs  from  their  own  established 
ways,  either  of  acting  or  thinking.  For  this  overbearing 
spirit  they  have  been  and  are  plentifully  and  justly  quizzed 
by  the  natives  of  other  countries.  Yet  they  exhibit  few  signs 
of  amendment.  An  Englishman  seems  to  think  it  matter  of 
course  that  he  must  be  lord  of  the  ascendant  wherever  he 
travels,  and  is  sometimes  reminded  of  his  mistake  in  a 
manner  anything  but  gentle.  The  impatience  he  constantly 
manifests  of  any  foreign  trait,  whether  of  habit  or  character, 
is  really  quite  amusing.  If  Sterne’s  Maria  had  figured  away 
at  Manchester,  or  his  Monk  at  Liverpool,  both  the  one  and 
the  other  would  have  been  deemed  fit  objects  either  for  a 
madhouse  or  house  of  correction  ; probably  the  girl  would 
have  been  committed  by  his  worship  the  mayor  to  Bedlam, 
and  the  old  man  to  the  treadmill.  In  fact,  Yorick’s  refined 
sentiment  in  France  would  be  gross  nonsense  at  Birmingham, 
and  La  Fleur’s  letter  to  the  corporal’s  wife  be  considered  as 
decided  evidence  of  crim.  con.  by  an  alderman  of  Cripplegate. 

As  for  myself,  I have  of  late  felt  a sort  of  medium  sensa- 
tion. As  men  become  stricken  in  years,  a species  of  vener- 
able insipidity  insinuates  itself  amongst  their  feelings.  A 
great  proportion  of  mine  had  turned  sour  by  long  keeping, 
and  I set  out  on  my  travels  without  one  quarter  of  the  good 
nature  which  I had  possessed  thirty  years  before.  My 
palate  was  admirably  disposed  at  the  time  to  feast  upon 
novelties,  of  which  I had  made  up  my  mind  to  take  a full 
meal,  and  thought  I should  be  all  the  better  prepared  by  a 
few  months  of  salubrious  air  and  rural  tranquillity. 

The  interval,  however,  which  I had  thus  devoted  to  quiet 


Barrington’s  recollections. 


376 

and  thorough  reinstatement  of  health  upon  the  breezy  and 
delightful  Coteau  d’Ingouville,  and  which  I expected  would 
flow  on  smoothly  for  some  months,  without  the  shadow  of  an 
adventure,  or  indeed  anything  calculated  to  interfere  with 
my  perfect  composure,  turned  out  to  be  one  filled  with  the 
most  extraordinary  occurrences  which  have  ever  marked  the 
history  of  Europe. 

The  sudden  return  of  Napoleon  from  Elba,  and  the  speedy 
flight  of  the  French  king  and  royal  family  from  the  Tuil- 
leries,  without  a single  effort  being  made  to  defend  them, 
appeared  to  me  at  the  time  of  all  possible  incidents  the 
most  extraordinary  and  the  least  expected.  The  important 
events  which  followed  in  rapid  and  perplexing  succession 
afforded  me  scope  for  extensive  observation,  whereof  I did 
not  fail  to  take  advantage.  My  opportunities  were  indeed 
great  and  peculiar  ; but  few  comparatively  of  my  fellow- 
countrymen  had  as  yet  ventured  into  France  ; those  who  did 
avail  themselves  of  the  conclusion  of  peace  in  1814  fled  the 
country  in  dismay  on  the  return  of  “ the  child  and  champion 
of  Jacobinism,”  whilst  I,  by  staying  there  throughout  his 
brief  second  reign,  was  enabled  to  ascertain  facts  known  to 
very  few  in  England,  and  hitherto  not  published  by  any. 

At  Havre  it  appeared  clearly  to  me  that  Napoleon,  during 
his  absence,  was  anything  but  forgotten  or  disesteemed. 
The  Empress,  when  there,  had  become  surprisingly  popular 
amongst  all  classes  of  people,  and  the  misfortunes  of  her 
husband  had  only  served  to  render  his  memory  more  dear  to 
his  brother-soldiers,  by  whom  he  was  evidently  still  regarded 
as  their  general  and  their  prince.  In  truth,  not  only  by  the 
soldiers,  but  generally  by  the  civic  ranks,  Louis,  rather  than 
Napoleon,  was  looked  on  as  the  usurper. 

There  were  two  regiments  of  the  line  at  Havre,  the  officers 
of  which  made  no  great  secret  of  their  sentiments,  whilst  the 
men  appeared  to  me  inclined  for  anything  but  obedience  to 
the  Bourbon  dynasty.  The  spirit  which  I could  not  help 


SCENES  AT  HAVRE  DE  GRACE. 


377 


seeing  in  full  activity  here,  it  was  rational  to  conclude, 
operated  in  other  parts  of  the  kingdom,  and  the  justice  of 
this  inference  was  suddenly  manifested  by  the  course  of 
events. 

We  were  well  acquainted  with  the  colonel  and  superior 
officers  of  one  of  the  regiments  then  in  garrison.  The 
colonel,  a very  fine  soldier-like  man,  about  forty-five,  with 
the  reputation  of  being  a brave  officer  and  an  individual  at 
once  candid,  liberal,  and  decided,  was  singularly  frank  in 
giving  his  opinions  on  all  public  subjects.  He  made  no 
attempt  to  conceal  his  indestructible  attachment  to  Napoleon, 
and  I should  think  (for  his  tendencies  must  necessarily  have 
been  reported  to  the  Government)  that  he  was  continued  in 
command  only  from  a consciousness  on  their  part  that,  if 
they  removed  him,  they  must  at  the  same  moment  have  dis- 
armed and  disbanded  the  regiment — a measure  which  the 
Bourbon  family  was  then  by  no  means  strong  enough  to 
hazard. 

On  one  occasion  the  colonel,  in  speaking  to  me  whilst 
company  was  sitting  around  us,  observed,  with  a sardonic 
smile,  that  his  master , Louis,  was  not  quite  so  firmly  seated 
as  his  emigres  seemed  to  think.  “ The  puissant  allies,”  con- 
tinued he,  sneering  as  he  spoke,  “ may  change  a king , but 
(and  his  voice  rose  the  while)  they  cannot  change  a people .” 

Circumstances,  in  fact,  daily  conspired  to  prove  to  me 
that  the  army  was  still  Napoleon’s.  The  surgeon  of  that 
same  regiment  was  an  Italian,  accounted  very  clever  in  his 
profession,  good-natured,  intelligent,  and  obliging,  but  so 
careless  of  his  dress  that  he  was  generally  called  by  us  the 
“ dirty  doctor.”  This  person  was  less  anxious  even  than  his 
comrades  to  conceal  his  sentiments  of  men  and  things,  both 
politically  and  generally,  never  failing,  whether  in  public  or 
private,  to  declare  his  opinion  and  his  attachment  to  “ the 
exile.” 

A great  ball  and  supper  was  given  by  the  prefects  and 


37« 


Barrington’s  recollections. 


other  authorities  of  Havre  in  honour  of  Louis  le  Desire's 
restoration.  The  affair  was  very  splendid.  We  were 
invited,  and  went  accordingly.  I there  perceived  our  dirty 
doctor,  dressed  most  gorgeously  in  military  uniform,  but 
not  that  of  his  regiment.  I asked  him  to  what  corps  it 
appertained  ; he  put  his  hand  to  his  mouth,  and  whispered 
me,  “ C’est  Tuniforme  de  mon  cceur ! ” (“  ’Tis  the 

uniform  of  my  heart ! ”)  It  was  the  dress  uniform  of 
Napoleon’s  Old  Guard,  in  which  the  doctor  had  served. 
The  incident  spoke  a volume,  and  as  to  the  sentiments  of 
its  wearer  was  decisive. 

About  six  weeks  after  that  incident  two  small  parties  of 
soldiers  of  the  garrison  passed  repeatedly  through  the 
market-place,  on  a market-day,  with  drawn  swords,  flourish- 
ing them  in  the  air,  and  crying  incessantly,  “ Vive 
Napoleon  ! vive  l’Empereur  ! ” but  they  did  not  manifest 
the  slightest  disposition  towards  riot  or  disturbance,  and 
nobody  appeared  either  to  be  surprised  at  or  to  mind  them 
much.  I was  speaking  to  a French  officer  at  the  time, 
and  he,  like  the  rest  of  the  spectators,  shewed  no  wish  to 
interfere  with  these  men,  or  to  prohibit  the  continuance 
of  their  exclamations,  nor  did  he  remark  in  any  way  upon  the 
circumstance.  I hence  naturally  enough  inferred  the  state 
of  public  feeling,  and  the  very  slight  hold  which  Louis  le 
Desire  then  had  upon  the  crown  of  his  ancestors. 

A much  more  curious  occurrence  took  place  when  a small 
detachment  of  Russian  cavalry,  which  had  remained  in 
France  from  the  termination  of  the  campaign,  were  sent 
down  to  Havre,  there  to  sell  their  horses  and  embark  for 
their  native  country.  The  visit  appeared  to  me  to  be  a most 
unwelcome  one  to  the  inhabitants  of  the  place,  and  still  more 
so,  as  might  be  expected,  to  the  military  stationed  there. 
The  Russians  were  very  fine-looking  fellows,  of  large  size, 
but  with  a want  of  flexibility  in  their  limbs  and  motions,  and 
were  thence  contrasted  rather  unfavourably  with  the  alert 


SCENES  AT  HAVRE  DE  GRACE.  379 

French  soldiery,  who,  in  manoeuvring  and  rapid  firing,  must 
have  a great  advantage  over  the  northern  stiffness. 

I had  the  pleasure  of  becoming  acquainted  at  Havre  with 
Mr.  Wright,  a very  respectable  gentleman,  and  I believe,  by 
affinity,  a nephew  of  Mr.  Windham.  We  had  been  in  a 
cafe  together,  and  were  returning  to  our  hotel  about  ten 
o’clock  at  night,  when  we  saw  a small  assemblage  of  people 
collected  at  the  church-door  in  the  main  street.  There  were 
some  women  amongst  them,  and  they  seemed  earnestly 
employed  on  some  business,  which  the  total  darkness  of  the 
night  prevented  us  from  seeing.  There  was,  in  fact,  no 
light  around  save  one  glimmering  lamp  in  the  porch  of  the 
church  door,  where  the  people  appeared  fairly  knotted 
together.  There  was  scarcely  any  noise  made  above  a sort 
of  buzz,  or,  as  it  were,  rather  a suppression  of  voices.  Mr. 
Wright  remained  stationary  whilst  I went  across  the  street 
to  reconnoitre  ; and  after  a good  deal  of  peeping  over 
shoulders  and  under  arms,  I could  perceive  that  the  mob 
was  in  the  act  of  deliberately  cutting  off  the  ears  of  two 
powerful-looking  Russian  soldiers,  who  were  held  so  fast 
by  many  men  that  they  had  not  the  least  capability  of 
resistance.  They  seemed  to  bear  the  application  of  the 
blunt  knives  of  their  assailants  with  considerable  fortitude, 
and  the  women  were  preparing  to  complete  the  trimming  with 
scissors,  but  one  glance  was  quite  enpugh  for  me  ! I got 
away  as  quick  as  thought,  and  as  the  circumstance  of  Mr. 
Wright  wearing  moustaches  might  possibly  cost  him  his 
ears,  I advised  him  to  get  into  a house  as  soon  as  possible. 
He  took  to  his  heels  on  the  suggestion,  and  I was  not  slow 
in  following.  The  next  day  I saw  one  of  the  Russians  in 
the  street  with  a guard  to  protect  him,  his  head  tied  up  with 
bloody  cloths,  and  cutting  altogether  a most  frightful  figure. 
All  the  French  seemed  highly  diverted,  and  shouted  out 
their  congratulations  to  the  Russian,  who,  however,  took 
no  manner  of  notice  of  the  compliment. 


Barrington’s  recollections. 


I believe  the  authorities  did  all  they  could  in  this  affair  to 
apprehend  the  trimmers,  but  unsuccessfully.  Some  indi- 
viduals were,  it  is  true,  taken  up  on  suspicion  ; but  as  soon 
as  the  Russians  were  embarked  they  were  liberated.  In 
fact,  the  local  dignitaries  knew  that  they  were  not  as  yet 
sufficiently  strong  to  enforce  punishment  for  carving  a 
Russian. 

I often  received  great  entertainment  from  sounding  many 
of  the  most  respectable  Frenchmen,  whose  acquaintance  I 
made  at  Havre,  with  regard  to  their  political  tendencies  ; and 
the  result  as  well  of  my  queries  as  of  my  observations  led  me 
to  perceive  that  there  were  not  wanting  numerous  persons  by 
whom  the  return  of  Bonaparte,  sooner  or  later,  was  looked 
forward  to  as  an  occurrence  by  no  means  either  violently 
improbable  or  undesirable. 

Nevertheless,  no  very  deep  impression  was  made  on  my 
mind  as  to  these  matters,  until  one  morning  Lady  Barrington, 
returning  from  Havre,  brought  me  a small  printed  paper, 
announcing  the  emperor’s  actual  return  from  Elba,  and 
that  he  was  on  his  route  for  Paris.  I believed  the  evidence 
of  my  eyesight  on  reading  the  paper  ; but  I certainly 
did  not  believe  its  contents.  I went  off  immediately  to  my 
landlord,  Mr.  Poulet,  a great  royalist,  and  his  countenance 
explained  circumstances  sufficiently  before  I asked  a single 
question.  The  sub-prefect  soon  left  the  town  ; but  the 
intelligence  was  scarcely  credited,  and  not  at  all  to  its  full 
extent.  I went  into  every  cafe  and  public  place,  and 
through  every  street.  In  all  directions  I saw  groups  of 
people,  anxious  and  busily  engaged  in  converse.  I was 
much  amused  by  observing  the  various  effects  of  the  intelli- 
gence on  persons  of  different  opinions,  and  by  contrasting 
the  countenances  of  those  who  thronged  the  thoroughfares. 

I did  not  myself  give  credence  to  the  latter  part  of  this 
intelligence — namely,  that  Bonaparte  was  on  his  way  to 
Paris.  I could  not  suppose  that  the  king  had  found  it 


SCENES  AT  HAVRE  DE  GRACE.  381 

impracticable  to  command  the  services  of  a single  regiment ; 
and  it  must  be  confessed  that  His  Majesty,  a man  of  excellent 
sense,  had,  under  all  the  circumstances,  made  a very  bad 
use  of  his  time  in  acquiring  popularity,  either  civil  or 
military.  Notwithstanding  the  addition  of  Desire  to  his 
Christian  name  (wherewith  it  had  been  graced  by  Messieurs 
les  emigres ),  it  is  self-evident  that  outward  demonstrations 
alone  had  been  conceded  to  him  of  respect  and  attachment. 
I never  heard  that  nickname  appropriated  to  him  at  Havre, 
by-the-bye,  except  by  the  prefects  and  revenue  officers. 

The  dismal  faces  of  the  Bourbonites,  the  grinning  ones  of 
the  Bonapartists,  and  the  puzzled  countenances  of  the 
neutrals  were  mingled  together  in  the  oddest  combinations  ; 
throughout  the  town  everybody  seemed  to  be  talking  at 
once,  and  the  scene  was  undoubtedly  of  the  strangest  char- 
acter, in  all  its  varieties.  Joy,  grief,  fear,  courage,  self- 
interest,  love  of  peace,  and  love  of  battle — each  had  its 
votaries.  Merchants,  priests,  douaniers , military  officers, 
were  strolling  about,  each  apparently  influenced  by  some 
distinctive  grade  of  feeling  ; one  sensation  alone  seemed 
common  to  all — that  of  astonishment. 

The  singularity  of  the  scene  every  moment  increased.  On 
the  day  immediately  ensuing  fugitives  from  Paris,  full  of 
news  of  all  descriptions,  came  in  as  quick  as  horses  and 
cabriolets  could  bring  them.  Bulletin  after  bulletin  arrived 
— messenger  after  messenger  ! But  all  the  dispatches  in  any 
shape  official  combined  in  making  light  of  the  matter.  The 
intelligence  communicated  by  private  individuals,  however, 
was  very  contradictory.  One,  for  instance,  stated  positively 
that  the  army  had  declared  against  Napoleon  ; another  that 
it  had  declared  for  him  ; a third  that  it  had  not  declared  at 
all  ! One  said  that  Napoleon  was  surrounded.  “ Yes,” 
returned  a bystander,  “ but  it  is  by  his  friends  ! ” Towards 
evening  every  group  seemed  to  be  quite  busy  making  up 
their  minds  as  to  the  news  of  the  day,  and  the  part  they 


382 


Barrington’s  recollections. 


might  think  it  advisable  to  take.  As  for  the  English,  they 
were  frightened  out  of  their  wits,  and  the  women  had  no 
doubt  they  should  all  be  committed  to  jail  before  next 
morning. 

I observed,  however,  that  amidst  all  this  bustle  and  mass 
of  conflicting  opinions  scarce  a single  priest  was  visible  ; 
these  cunning  gentry  had  (to  use  a significant  expression) 
determined,  if  possible,  “ not  to  play  their  cards  till  they 
were  sure  what  was  trumps”  On  the  preceding  Sunday 
they  had  throughout  the  entire  day  been  chanting  benedic- 
tions on  Louis  le  Desire,  and  on  St.  Louis,  his  great-grand- 
father. But  on  the  Sabbath  which  followed,  if  they  chanted 
at  all  (as  they  were  bound  to  do),  they  would  necessarily  run 
a great  risk  of  chanting  for  the  last  time  in  their  lives  if 
they  left  out  Napoleon  ; and  inasmuch  as  they  were  unable 
to  string  together  Louis  le  D&ire,  Napoleon,  and  St.  Louis 
in  one  benedicite , a most  distressing  dilemma  became  inevit- 
able amongst  the  clergy  ! Common  sense,  however,  soon 
pointed  out  their  safest  course  ; a plea  of  compulsion  operat- 
ing on  the  meek  resignation  of  their  holy  trade  might  serve 
as  an  excellent  apology  on  the  part  of  an  ecclesiastical 
family  in  the  presumption  of  Louis’s  becoming  victor  ; but 
in  the  emperor  they  had  to  deal  with  a different  sort  of 
person,  as  they  well  knew — with  a man  who  would  not  be 
put  off  with  unmeaning  excuses,  and  in  due  homage  to 
whom  it  would  be  dangerous  to  fail.  Under  all  circum- 
stances, therefore,  they  took  up  a line  of  conduct  which  I 
cannot  but  think  was  very  wise  and  discreet,  proceeding  as 
it  did  upon  the  principle  “ of  two  evils  choose  the  least.” 
Their  loyalty  was  decided  by  their  fears,  which  sufficed  to 
stimulate  the  whole  body  of  priests  and  cures  at  Havre,  old 
and  young,  to  uplift  their  voices  with  becoming  enthusiasm 
in  benediction  of  “ Napoleon  le  Grand  ! y>  Indeed,  they 
seemed  to  be  of  opinion  that,  having  taken  their  ground,  it 
would  be  as  well  to  appear  in  earnest ; and  never  did  they 


SCENES  AT  HAVRE  DE  GRACE. 


383 

work  harder  than  in  chanting  a Te  Deum  laudamus  in  honour 
of  their  old  master’s  return.  To  be  serious,  I believe 
they  durst  not  have  done  otherwise  ; for  I heard  some 
of  the  military  say  very  decidedly  that  if  the  priests  played 
any  tricks  upon  the  occasion  they  would  hash  them  ! 

The  observation  which  surprised  me  most  of  all  was,  that 
though  the  two  parties  had  declared  themselves,  and  the 
fleur-de-lis  and  eagle  were  displayed  in  direct  opposition  to 
each  other  throughout  the  town — though  the  sub-prefect  had 
run  away,  whilst  the  tricoloured  flag  was  floating  in  one  place 
and  the  white  one  in  another — no  practical  animosity  or  ill 
blood  whatsoever  broke  out  amongst  the  respective  partisans. 
The  bustle  somewhat  resembled  that  of  an  English  election, 
but  had  none  of  the  violence  or  dissipation,  and  only  half 
the  noise,  which  circulate  on  those  august  occasions.  On 
the  contrary,  civility  was  maintained  by  everyone  ; the 
soldiers  were  very  properly  kept  in  their  barracks  ; and  an 
Englishman  could  scarcely  conceive  so  polite,  peaceable, 
temperate,  and  cheerful  a revolution — more  particularly  as 
neither  party  could  tell  on  which  side  the  treason  would 
ultimately  rest. 

At  length  orders  came  from  Napoleon  at  Lyons  that  the 
imperial  army  should  be  recruited  ; whilst,  at  the  very 
moment  this  order  arrived,  some  of  the  merchants  and 
officers  of  the  National  Guards  were  actually  beating  up 
for  the  royal  armament.  The  drums  of  the  respective 
partisans  rattled  away  through  every  street,  and  the  recruiters 
often  passed  each  other  with  the  utmost  courtesy  ; not  one 
man  was  seen  in  a state  of  intoxication  on  either  side. 
Meanwhile  there  was  no  lack  of  recruits  to  range  themselves 
under  either  standard  ; and  it  was  most  curious  to  observe 
that  these  men  very  frequently  changed  their  opinions 
and  their  party  before  sunset ! I think  most  recruits  joined 
the  king’s  party  ; his  sergeants  had  plenty  of  money,  whilst 
Napoleon’s  had  none ; and  this  was  a most  tempting 


384  Barrington’s  recollections. 

distinction — far  better  than  any  abstract  consideration  of 
political  benefit.  Many  of  the  recruits  managed  matters 
even  better  than  the  priests,  for  they  took  the  king’s  money 
in  the  morning,  and  the  emperor’s  cockade  in  the  afternoon  ; 
so  that  they  could  not  be  accused  on  either  side  of  unqualified 
partiality.  The  votaries  of  le  Desire  and  le  Grand  were 
indeed  so  jumbled  and  shuffled  together  (like  a pack  of  cards 
when  on  the  point  of  being  dealt)  that  nobody  could  possibly 
decipher  which  had  the  best  chance  of  succeeding. 

The  English  alone  cast  a dark  and  gloomy  shade  over  the 
gay  scene  that  surrounded  them  ; their  lengthened  visages, 
sunken  eyes,  and  hanging  features  proclaiming  their  terror 
and  despondency.  Everyone  fancied  he  should  be  incar- 
cerated for  life  if  he  could  not  escape  before  Napoleon 
arrived  at  Paris,  which  seemed  extremely  problematical  ; and 
I really  think  I never  saw  a set  of  men  in  better  humour  for 
suicide  than  my  fellow-countrymen,  who  stalked  like  ghosts 
along  the  pier  and  seaside. 

The  British  Consul,  Mr.  Stuart  (a  litterateur  and  a gentle- 
man, but  whose  wine  generally  regulated  his  nerves,  whilst 
his  nerves  governed  his  understanding),  as  good-natured  a 
person  as  could  possibly  be — about  a couple  of  bottles  after 
dinner  (for  so  he  counted  his  time — a mode  of  computation 
in  which  he  certainly  was  as  regular  as  clockwork) — called  a 
general  meeting  of  all  the  British  subjects  in  Havre,  at  his 
apartments  ; and  after  each  had  taken  a bumper  of  Madeira 
to  George  the  Third,  he  opened  the  business  in  as  long  and 
flowery  an  harangue,  in  English  and  Latin,  as  the  grape 
of  Midi  and  its  derivative  distillations  could  possibly 
dictate. 

“ My  friends  and  countrymen,”  said  Mr.  Stuart,  “ I have 
good  Consular  reasons  for  telling  you  all  that  if  Bonaparte 
gets  into  Paris  he  will  order  every  mother’s  babe  of  you — 
men,  women,  and  children,  et  cetera — into  gaol  for  ten  or 
twelve  years  at  the  least  computation  ! and  I,  therefore, 


SCENES  AT  HAVRE  DE  GRACE. 


385 


advise  you  all,  magnus , major , maximus , to  take  yourselves  off 
without  any  delay,  great  or  small,  and  thereby  save  your 
bacon  whilst  you  have  the  power  of  doing  so.  Don’t  wait 
to  take  care  of  your  property  ; nulla  bona  is  better  than  nulla 
libertas.  As  for  me,  I am  bound  ex-ojficio  to  devote  myself 
for  my  country  ! I will  risk  my  life  (and  here  he  looked 
sentimental)  to  protect  your  property.  I will  remain 
behind  ! ” 

The  conclusion  of  the  consul’s  speech  was  a signal  for  the 
simultaneous  uplifting  of  many  voices.  “ I’ll  be  off  cer- 
tainly ! ” exclaimed  one  terrified  gentleman.  “ Every  man 
for  himself,  God  for  us  all,  and  the  devil  take  the  hindmost  ! ” 
shouted  another.  “ Do  you  mean  to  affront  me,  sir  ? ” 
demanded  the  worthy  self-devoted  consul,  starting  from 
his  seat.  A regular  uproar  now  ensued  ; but  the  thing  was 
soon  explained  and  tranquillity  restored. 

Two  ships  were  now  forthwith  hired,  at  an  enormous 
price,  to  carry  the  English  out  of  the  reach  of  Bonaparte. 
The  wind  blew  a gale,  but  no  hurricane  could  be  so  terrific 
as  Napoleon.  Their  property  was  a serious  consideration  to 
my  fellow-countrymen  ; however,  there  was  no  choice. 
They,  therefore,  packed  up  all  their  small  valuables,  and 
relinquished  the  residue  to  the  protection  of  Providence 
and  the  consul. 

In  a short  time  all  was  ready,  and  as  Mr.  Stuart  had 
advised,  men,  women,  children,  and  lap-dogs  all  rushed  to 
the  quay,  whilst,  in  emulation  of  the  orator  at  the  consul’s, 
“ the  devil  take  the  hindmost,”  if  not  universally  expressed, 
was  universally  the  principle  of  action.  Two  children,  in 
this  most  undignified  sort  of  confusion,  fell  into  the  sea,  but 
were  picked  up.  The  struggling,  screeching,  scrambling, 
etc.,  were  at  length  completed,  and  in  a shorter  time  than 
might  be  supposed  the  English  population  were  duly 
shipped,  and  away  they  went  under  a hard  gale.  Dr. 
Johnson  calls  a ship  a prison,  with  the  chance  of  being 

(D'Ul)  1 c 


386 


Barrington’s  recollections. 


drowned  in  it ; and  as  if  to  prove  the  correctness  of  the 
doctor’s  definition,  before  night  was  over  one  vessel  was 
ashore,  and  the  whole  of  its  company  just  on  the  point  of 
increasing  the  population  of  the  British  Channel. 

Havre  de  Grace  being  thus  emptied  of  the  king  of 
England’s  subjects,  who  were  “ saving  their  bacon  ” at  sea 
in  a violent  hurricane,  the  consul  began  to  take  care  of  their 
property  ; but  there  being  a thing  called  foyer,  or  rent,  in 
France  as  well  as  in  England,  the  huissiers  (bailiffs)  of  the 
town  saved  the  consul  a great  deal  of  trouble  respecting  his 
guardianship  in  divers  instances.  Nevertheless,  so  far  as  he 
could,  he  most  faithfully  performed  his  promise  to  the 
fugitives,  for  the  reception  of  whose  effects  he  rented  a 
large  storehouse,  and  so  far  all  was  wisely,  courteously,  and 
carefully  managed  ; but  not  exactly  recollecting  that  the 
parties  did  not  possess  the  property  as  tenants  in  common, 
the  worthy  consul  omitted  to  have  distinct  inventories  taken 
of  each  person’s  respective  chattels,  though,  to  avoid  any 
risk  of  favouritism,  he  had  all  jumbled  together,  and  such 
an  heterogeneous  medley  was  perhaps  never  seen  elsewhere. 
Clothes,  household  furniture,  kitchen  utensils,  books,  linen, 
empty  bottles,  musical  instruments,  etc.,  strewed  the  floor 
of  the  storehouse  in  “ most  admired  disorder.”  All  being 
safely  stowed,  locks,  bolts,  and  bars  were  elaborately  con- 
structed to  exclude  such  as  might  feel  a disposition  to 
picking  and  stealing  ; but,  alas  ! the  best  intentions  and  the 
most  cautious  provisions  are  sometimes  frustrated  by 
accident  or  oversight.  In  the  present  instance,  in  his 
extraordinary  anxiety  to  secure  the  door,  Mr.  Stuart  was 
perfectly  heedless  of  the  roof,  and,  in  consequence,  the 
intrusion  of  the  rain,  which  often  descended  in  torrents, 
effectually  saved  most  of  the  proprietors  the  trouble  of 
identifying  their  goods  after  the  result  of  the  glorious  battle 
of  Waterloo.  Disputes  also  were  endless  as  to  the  right 
and  title  of  various  claimants  to  various  articles,  and  in  the 


SCENES  AT  HAVRE  DE  GRACE. 


387 


result  the  huissiers  and  the  landlord  of  the  storehouse 
were  once  more  intruders  upon  the  protected  property. 

To  return,  Havre  being  completely  evacuated  by  my 
countrymen,  it  now  became  necessary  to  strike  out  some 
line  of  proceeding  for  myself  and  family.  Sir  William 
Johnson,  who  was  in  the  town,  had  participated  in  the 
general  alarm,  and  had  set  off  with  his  household  for  the 
Netherlands,  advising  me  to  do  the  same.  I was  afterwards 
informed  that  they  all  foundered  in  a dyke  near  Antwerp.  I 
am  ignorant  whether  or  not  there  is  any  foundation  for  this 
story — I sincerely  hope  there  is  not.  In  the  meantime,  the 
transformation  of  things  at  Havre  became  complete,  and 
perfect  order  quickly  succeeded  the  temporary  agitation. 
The  tricoloured  flag  was  again  hoisted  at  the  port,  and  all 
the  painters  of  the  town  were  busily  employed  in  changing 
the  royal  signs  into  imperial  ones.  One  auberge,  Louis  le 
Desire , was  changed  into  a blue  boar  ; the  Duchesse  d'Angou - 
leme  became  the  Virgin  Mary  ; royal  was  new-guilt  into 
imperial  once  more  at  the  lottery  offices  ; fleurs-de-lis  were 
metamorphosed  in  a single  day  into  beautiful  spread-eagles  ; 
and  the  Due  de  Berry , who  had  hung  creaking  so  peaceably 
on  his  post  before  the  door  of  a hotel,  became  in  a few 
hours  St.  Peter  himself,  with  the  keys  of  Heaven  dangling 
from  his  little  finger  ! 


388 


Barrington’s  recollections. 


CHAPTER  XLIV. 

COMMENCEMENT  OF  THE  HUNDRED  DAYS. 

To  see  Napoleon,  or  not  to  see  Napoleon,  that  was  the 
question  ! and  well  weighed  it  was  in  my  domestic  republic. 
After  a day’s  reasoning  pro  and  con,  curiosity  being  pitted 
against  fear,  and  women  in  the  question,  the  matter  was 
still  undecided,  when  our  friends  the  colonel  and  the  dirty 
doctor  came  to  visit  us,  and  set  the  point  at  rest  by  stating 
that  the  regiments  at  Havre  had  declared  unanimously  for 
the  emperor,  and  that  the  colonel  had  determined  to  march 
next  day  direct  upon  Paris  ; that,  therefore,  if  we  were 
disposed  to  go  thither,  and  would  set  off  at  the  same  time, 
the  doctor  should  take  care  of  our  safety,  and  see  that  we 
had  good  cheer  on  our  journey  to  the  metropolis. 

This  proposal  was  unanimously  adopted  ; we  were  at 
peace  with  France,  and  might  possibly  remain  so  ; and  the 
curiosity  of  three  ladies,  with  my  own  to  back  it,  proved  to 
be  totally  irresistible.  A new  sub-prefect  also  having  arrived 
in  the  town  came  to  see  us,  expressed  his  regret  that  the 
English  should  have  deemed  it  necessary  to  quit  the  place, 
and  gave  us  a letter  of  introduction  to  his  wife,  who  lived  in 
the  Rue  St.  Honore,  at  Paris. 

We  immediately  packed  up.  I procured  three  stout 
horses  to  my  carriage,  and  away  we  went  after  the  advanced 
guard  of  the  (as  well  as  I recollect)  41st  regiment.  The 
soldiers  seemed  to  me  as  if  thev  thought  they  never  could 
get  to  Napoleon  soon  enough  ; they  marched  with  surpris- 
ing rapidity  ; and  after  a most  agreeable  journey,  we  arrived 
at  the  good  city  of  Paris  without  any  let  or  hindrance,  having 
experienced  from  the  dirty  doctor  every  possible  attention. 
We  were  sure  of  the  best  cheer  at  any  place  we  halted  at, 


COMMENCEMENT  OF  THE  HUNDRED  DAYS.  389 

and  the  more  so  as  the  advanced  guard  only  preceded  us 
one  stage,  and  the  main  body  of  the  troops  was  a stage 
behind  us.  We  were  immediately  escorted  by  four  mounted 
soldiers,  who  were  in  attendance  upon  our  medical  friend. 
I have  learned  since  that  this  kind  and  firm-hearted  man 
escaped  the  campaign  and  returned  to  Italy  ; the  colonel 
was  shot  dangerously  at  Quatre  Bras,  but  I understand  his 
wounds  did  not  prove  mortal. 

Our  route  from  Havre  to  Paris  exhibited  one  general 
scene  of  peace  and  tranquillity,  not  dashed  by  the  slightest 
symptom  of  revolution.  The  National  Guards  everywhere 
appeared  to  have  got  new  clothing,  and  were  most  assidu- 
ously learning  in  the  villages  to  hold  up  their  heads,  and  take 
long  strides  and  lock  steps,  but  (for  anything  that  appeared 
to  the  contrary)  solely  for  their  own  amusement.  The  same 
evidences  of  undisturbed  serenity  and  good  humour  were 
displayed  in  all  directions,  and  the  practice  of  military 
exercises  by  the  National  Guards  was  the  only  warlike 
indication  of  any  kind  throughout  the  whole  extent  of 
country  we  traversed. 

On  our  arrival  at  the  capital  we  found  no  exception  therein 
to  the  tranquillity  of  the  provinces.  People  at  a distance  are 
apt  to  conceive  that  a revolution  must  necessarily  be  a most 
terrific  affair — a period  of  anarchy  and  confusion,  when 
everything  is  in  a state  of  animosity,  bustle,  and  insecurity. 
This  is  in  some  instances  a great  mistake,  although,  generally 
speaking,  true  enough  ; for,  on  the  other  hand,  many  modern 
revolutions  have  been  effected,  governments  upset,  dynasties 
annihilated,  and  kings  trucked,  with  as  little  confusion  as  the 
exchanging  a gig-horse.  I have  indeed  seen  more  work 
made  about  the  change  of  a hat  than  of  a diadem,  more 
anxiety  expressed  touching  a cane  than  a sceptre  ; and  never 
did  any  revolution  more  completely  prove  the  truth  of  these 
remarks  than  that  in  France  during  March,  1815,  when 
Napoleon  quietly  drove  up  post,  in  a chaise  and  four,  to  the 


390  Barrington’s  recollections. 

palace  of  the  Bourbons,  and  Louis  XVIII.  as  quietly  drove 
off  post,  in  a chaise  and  four,  to  avoid  his  visitor.  Both 
parties,  too,  were  driven  back  again,  within  three  months, 
pretty  nearly  in  the  same  kind  of  vehicle  ! Let  my  reader 
compare,  for  his  edification,  this  bloodless  revolution  with 
the  attempt  at  revolution  in  the  obscure  corner  of  the  globe 
from  whence  I sprang,  Anno  Domini  1798 — during  the  brief 
summer  of  which  year  there  was,  in  secluded  Ireland  (the 
kingdom  of  Ireland,  as  it  was  then  called),  more  robbery, 
shooting,  hanging,  burning,  piking,  flogging,  and  picketing 
than  takes  place  in  half  a dozen  of  the  best  got-up  Continental 
revolutions,  always  excepting  that  great  convulsion  which 
agitated  our  neighbours  towards  the  close  of  the  eighteenth 
century. 

During  the  interval  of  the  Hundred  Days,  and  some  time 
subsequently,  I kept  a regular  diary,  wherein  I accurately 
took  down  every  important  circumstance,  except  some  few 
which  I then  considered  much  safer  in  my  mind  than  under 
my  hand,  and  these  are  now,  for  the  most  part  and  for  the 
first  time,  submitted  to  the  public.  After  a few  days’  stay  in 
Paris,  I began  to  feel  rather  awkward.  I found  very  few  of 
my  fellow-countrymen  had  remained  there,  and  that  there 
seemed  to  exist  but  little  partiality  towards  the  English. 
But  the  police  was  perfect,  and  no  outrage,  robbery,  or 
breach  of  the  peace  was  heard  of,  nor  could  I find  that  there 
were  any  political  prisoners  in  the  gaols,  or  in  fact  many 
prisoners  of  any  kind.  No  dissolutes  were  suffered  to  parade 
the  streets  or  contaminate  the  theatres,  and  all  appeared 
polite,  tranquil,  and  correct.  I kept  totally  clear  meanwhile, 
both  in  word  and  deed,  of  political  subjects. 

I hired  as  footman  a person  then  very  well  known  in 
Paris,  Henry  Thevenot.  I have  since  heard,  but  cannot 
vouch  for  the  fact,  that  he  is  the  Thevenot  who  attended 
Mr.  Wakefield  and  Miss  Turner.  I have  likewise  recently 
been  apprised  that  at  the  time  I engaged  him  he  was 


COMMENCEMENT  OF  THE  HUNDRED  DAYS.  39! 

actually  on  the  espionage  establishment.  Be  that  as  it  may, 
I certainly  always  considered  Thevenot  to  be  a mysterious 
kind  of  person,  and  on  one  particular  occasion,  which  will 
be  hereafter  mentioned,  discharged  him  suddenly  without 
enlarging  on  my  reasons — he  was,  however,  an  excellent 
servant.  I had  brought  a passport  from  the  new  Sous- 
Prefet  at  Havre,  which  having  lodged  at  the  police-office,  I 
felt  quite  at  my  ease  ; but  reflecting  afterwards  upon  the 
probable  consequence  in  case  of  war  or  change  of  circum- 
stances, I determined  at  once  to  take  a bold  step  and  go  to 
the  Palais  de  Bourbon  Elysee,  where  Napoleon  resided,  to 
see  Count  Bertrand,  whom  I proposed  to  inform  truly  of  my 
situation,  and  ask  for  a sanf  conduit  or  passport  to  return. 

On  the  second  day  whereon  I made  an  attempt  to  see  him, 
with  difficulty  I succeeded  in  obtaining  an  audience.  I told 
the  count  who  I was,  and  all  the  facts,  together  with  my 
doubts  as  to  the  propriety  of  remaining.  He  very  politely 
said  I should  have  what  I required,  but  that  a gentleman  in 
my  station  was  perfectly  safe,  and  there  could  be  no  difficulty 
as  to  my  remaining  as  long  as  I chose,  and  concluded  by 
bowing  me  out,  after  a short  interview.  As  I was  going 
down  the  steps  an  officer  recalled  me,  and  asked  if  I had 
any  family  in  Paris.  I replied  in  the  affirmative — three 
ladies.  Mutual  bows  ensued,  and  I returned  very  well 
satisfied  with  the  result  of  my  visit  to  the  Palais  de  Bourbon 
Elysee.  At  that  time  the  emperor  was  employed  day  and 
night  on  business  in  the  palace  ; at  daybreak  he  occasionally 
rode  out  with  some  of  his  staff  to  inspect  the  works  at 
Montmartre  ; and  on  hearing  this  my  ancient  curiosity 
to  see  so  distinguished  a person  came  afresh  upon  me. 

The  ensuing  day  a man  with  a large  letter-box  buckled 
before  him  entered  our  apartment  without  the  least  cere- 
mony, and  delivered  a letter  with  “ Bertrand  ” signed  at 
the  corner.  I was  rather  startled  at  the  moment,  as  the 
occurrence  certainly  looked  singular;  nevertheless,  the 


392 


Barrington’s  recollections. 


man’s  appearance  and  manner  were  not  such  as  to  confirm 
unpleasant  surprises,  and  I proceeded  to  unseal  the  envelope, 
which  enclosed  a billet  to  the  Commissaire  de  Police,  desir- 
ing him  to  grant  me  a sauf  conduit  through  any  part  of  France, 
if  I chose  to  travel  in  that  country,  and  an  especial  passport 
to  Calais,  should  I choose  to  return  to  England  (the  signa- 
ture was  not  that  of  Bertrand)  ; the  packet  also  contained 
a polite  note  from  an  aid-de-camp  of  the  count,  mentioning 
that  he  was  directed  to  enclose  me  an  admission  to  the 
emperor’s  chapel,  etc.,  and  to  say  that,  on  production  of 
my  sauf  conduit , our  party  would  find  a free  admission 
to  the  theatres  and  other  spectacles  of  Paris.  So  much 
politeness  (so  very  different  from  what  would  have  been  the 
case  in  England)  both  gratified  and  surprised  me.  I wrote 
a letter  of  thanks  ; but  at  our  privy  council  we  agreed  that, 
under  existing  circumstances,  it  would  be  better  to  say 
nothing  of  the  latter  favour.  I afterwards  discovered  the 
friendly  quarter  through  which  it  originated. 

We  hired  a caleche  by  the  month,  and  set  out  with  a deter- 
mination to  lose  no  time  in  seeing  whatever  was  interesting, 
and,  in  fact,  everything  was  at  that  moment  interesting  to 
strangers.  We  spoke  French  sufficiently  well  for  ordinary 
purposes,  and  determined,  in  short,  to  make  ourselves  as 
comfortable  as  possible. 

I have  already  observed  that  I kept  a diary  during  the 
Hundred  Days,  but  afterwards  thought  it  most  prudent  not 
to  commit  anything  very  important  to  writing.  From  that 
diary,  so  far  as  I pursued  it,  and  from  scraps  which  nobody 
could  understand  but  myself,  I have  since  selected  such 
details  and  observations  as  have  not  hitherto  been  published 
or  made,  and  for  the  collection  of  which  my  peculiar  situa- 
tion at  Paris  and  consequent  opportunities  abundantly 
qualified  me.  Consistently  with  the  foregoing  part  of  these 
fragments  I shall  not  even  attempt  anything  like  strict  order 
or  chronological  arrangement,  but  leave,  generally  speaking, 


TOMMENCEMENT  OF  THE  HUNDRED  DAYS. 


393 


the  various  subjects  brought  before  the  reader’s  attention  to 
illustrate  and  explain  each  other.  On  this  principle  I shall 
now,  without  further  prelude,  describe  the  first  scene  which 
impressed  itself  on  my  imagination. 

The  first  Sunday  after  the  receipt  of  our  permission  we 
repaired  to  the  emperor’s  chapel,  to  see  that  wonderful  man 
and  to  hear  Mass  chanted  in  the  first  style  of  church  music. 
Napoleon  had  already  entered  ; the  chapel  was  full,  but  we 
got  seats  very  low  down,  near  the  gallery  in  which  the 
emperor  sat  ; and  as  he  frequently  leaned  over  the  front,  I 
had  opportunities  of  partially  seeing  him.  In  the  presence 
of  so  celebrated  a man  as  Bonaparte  all  other  things  sank 
into  comparative  insignificance,  and  the  attention  of  the 
spectator  was  wholly  absorbed  by  the  one  great  object. 
Thus,  in  the  present  case,  there  was  nothing  either  in  the 
chapel  or  congregation  that  had  power  to  divide  my  regards 
with  the  great  Napoleon.  As  I have  said,  he  often  leaned 
over  the  front  of  the  gallery  wherein  he  sat,  and  I had  thence 
an  opportunity  of  observing  that  he  seemed  quite  restless, 
took  snuff  repeatedly,  stroked  down  his  head  with  an 
abstracted  air,  and,  in  fact,  was  obviously  possessed  by 
feelings  of  deep  anxiety.  I should  not  suppose  he  had  at 
the  moment  the  least  consciousness  as  to  where  he  was,  and 
that  of  all  things  the  priests  and  the  Mass  were  the  last 
likely  to  occupy  his  thoughts. 

Whilst  thus  employed  in  reconnoitring  the  emperor  as 
intensely  as  stolen  glances  afforded  me  means  of  doing,  a 
buzz  in  the  chapel  caused  me  to  turn  round  to  ascertain  its 
cause.  Though  low,  it  increased  every  moment,  and  was 
palpably  directed  towards  us — so  much  so,  that  no  doubt 
remained  of  our  being  somehow  or  other  the  sole  objects 
of  it.  I then  whispered  my  companions  that  our  presence 
was  evidently  offensive  in  that  place,  and  that  we  had  better 
retire,  when  a Frenchwoman  who  sat  near  Lady  Barrington 
said,  “ Madame,  you  perceive  that  you  are  the  object  of  this 


394  b Arlington’s  recollections. 

uncourteous  notice.”  “ Yes,”  replied  Lady  Barrington,  “ it 
is  become  quite  obvious.”  The  French  lady  smiled,  and 
continued,  “ You  had  better  lay  aside  your  shawls  ! ” Lady 
Barrington  and  my  daughter  accordingly,  taking  the  hint, 
threw  off  their  shawls,  which  they  suffered  to  drop  at  their 
feet,  and  at  once  the  buzzing  subsided,  and  no  further 
explanation  took  place  until  the  conclusion  of  the  service. 

At  that  moment  several  French  ladies  came  up  with  great 
courtesy  to  apologise  for  the  apparent  rudeness  of  the  con- 
gregation, which  they  begged  Lady  Barrington  to  excuse  on 
account  of  its  cause,  and  to  examine  her  shawl,  on  doing 
which  she  would  perceive  that  it  was  very  unlucky  ( bien  mal 
a propos)  to  wear  such  a one  in  the  presence  of  the  emperor. 
She  did  so,  and  found  that  both  hers  and  my  daughter’s, 
though  very  fine  ones,  were  unfortunately  speckled  all  over 
with  fleur-de-lis  ! They  had  been  sold  her  the  preceding 
day  by  a knavish  shopkeeper  at  the  Passage  Feydeau,  who, 
seeing  she  was  a foreigner,  had  put  off  these  articles,  thinking 
it  a good  opportunity  to  decrease  his  stock  in  that  kind  of 
gear,  the  sale  whereof  would  probably  be  pronounced  high 
treason  before  the  month  was  over. 

The  confusion  of  the  ladies  at  this  eclair cissement  may  be 
well  conceived,  but  it  was  speedily  alleviated  by  the  elegant 
consolations  and  extreme  politeness  of  the  Frenchwomen. 
Amongst  those  who  addressed  us  was  a gentleman  in  the 
uniform  of  a colonel  of  the  National  Guards  ; he  spoke  to  me 
in  perfect  English,  and  begged  to  introduce  his  family  to 
mine.  I told  him  who  I was,  and  he  asked  us  to  a dinner 
and  ball  next  day  at  his  house  in  the  Rue  de  Clichy.  We 
accepted  his  invitation,  and  were  magnificently  entertained. 
This  was  Colonel  Gowen,  the  proprietor  of  the  first  stamp- 
paper  manufactory  in  France,  a most  excellent,  hospitable, 
and  friendly  person,  but  ill-requited,  I fear,  afterwards  by 
some  of  our  countrymen.  I subsequently  experienced  many 
proofs  of  his  hospitality  and  attention. 


COMMENCEMENT  OF  THE  HUNDRED  DAYS. 


395 


An  English  lady  was  also  remarkably  attentive  and  polite 
qn  this  occasion,  and  gave  her  card  to  Lady  Barrington,  No. 
io,  Rue  Pigale.  She  was  the  lady  of  Dr.  Marshall,  an 
English  physician  ; so  that  the  affair  of  the  shawl,  so  far 
from  being  mal  a propos , turned  out  quite  a lucky  adventure. 

In  viewing  Napoleon  that  day  it  was  not  the  splendid 
superiority  of  his  rank,  it  was  neither  his  diadem,  sceptre, 
nor  power  which  communicated  that  involuntary  sensation 
of  awe  it  was  impossible  not  to  feel — it  was  the  gigantic 
degree  of  talent  whereby  a man  of  obscure  origin  had  been 
raised  so  far  above  his  fellows.  The  spectator  could  not  but 
deeply  reflect  on  the  mystic  nature  of  those  decrees  of  Pro- 
vidence which  had  placed  Napoleon  Bonaparte  on  one  of 
the  highest  of  earthly  thrones,  and  at  the  very  pinnacle  of 
glory  ; had  hurled  him  from  that  eminence  and  driven  him 
into  exile  ; and  now  seemed  again  to  have  warranted  his 
second  elevation,  replacing  him  upon  that  throne  even  more 
wondrously  than  when  he  first  ascended  it. 

Such  were  my  impressions  on  my  first  sight  of  the  Em- 
peror Napoleon.  So  much  has  he  been  seen  and  scrutinised 
throughout  the  world,  so  familiar  must  his  countenance  have 
been  to  millions — so  many  descriptions  have  been  given  of 
his  person  and  of  his  features  by  those  who  knew  him  well, 
that  any  portrait  by  me  must  appear  to  be  at  least  super- 
fluous. Every  person,  however,  has  a right  to  form  his 
own  independent  judgment  on  subjects  of  physiognomy  ; 
and  it  is  singular  enough  that  I have  never  yet  met  anyone 
with  whom  I entirely  coincided  as  to  the  peculiar  expression 
of  Napoleon’s  features,  and  I have  some  right  to  speak,  for  I 
saw  him  at  periods  and  under  circumstances  that  wrought  on 
and  agitated  every  muscle  of  his  fine  countenance,  and  have 
fancied,  perhaps  ridiculously,  that  I could  trace  indications 
of  character  therein  unnoticed  by  his  biographers. 

On  this  day  my  observations  must  necessarily  have  been 
very  superficial  ; yet  I thought  I could  perceive  in  the  move- 


39^ 


Barrington’s  recollections. 


ment  of  a single  feature  some  strong-excited  feeling,  some 
sensation  detached  and  wandering  away  from  the  ordinary 
modes  of  thinking,  though  I could  not  even  guess  from  what 
passion  or  through  what  impulse  that  sensation  originated. 
After  I had  seen  him  often  I collated  the  emotions  palpable 
in  his  countenance  with  the  vicissitudes  of  his  past  life, 
fancying  that  I might  thence  acquire  some  data  to  go  upon 
in  estimating  the  tone  of  his  thoughts  ; but  at  this  first  sight, 
so  diversified  were  the  appearances  as  he  leaned  over  the 
gallery,  that  even  Lavater  could  not  have  deciphered  his 
sensations.  He  was  uneasy,  making  almost  convulsive 
motions,  and  I perceived  occasionally  a quiver  on  his  lip. 
On  the  whole,  my  anxiety  was  raised  a hundredfold  to  be 
placed  in  some  situation  where  I might  translate  at  leisure 
the  workings  of  his  expressive  countenance.  That  oppor- 
tunity was  after  a short  interval  fully  given  me. 

On  the  same  day  I had,  indeed;  a second  occasion  of  ob- 
serving the  emperor,  and  in  a much  more  interesting  occu- 
pation— more  to  his  taste,  and  which  obviously  changed  the 
entire  cast  of  his  looks,  quite  divesting  them  of  that  deep, 
penetrating,  gloomy  character  which  had  saddened  his  coun- 
tenance during  the  time  he  was  at  chapel.  After  Mass  he 
first  came  out  upon  the  balcony  in  front  of  the  Tuilleries  ; 
his  personal  staff,  marshals,  generals,  and  a few  ladies  sur- 
rounded him  ; whilst  the  civil  officers  of  the  court  stood  in 
small  groups  aside,  as  if  wishing  to  have  nothing  to  do  with 
the  military  spectacle.  Napoleon  was  now  about  to  inspect 
eight  or  ten  thousand  of  the  army  in  the  Place  Carousel. 
The  transition  from  an  array  of  priests  to  a parade  of  war- 
riors— from  the  hymns  of  the  saints  to  the  shouting  of  the 
soldiery — from  the  heavy,  although  solemn,  music  of  the 
organ  to  the  inspiriting  notes  of  the  drum — added  greatly  to 
the  effect  of  the  scene,  which  strongly  impressed  my  mind, 
alive  and  open  to  all  these  novel  incidents.  Age  had  not 
then,  nor  has  it  yet,  effaced  the  susceptibility  of  my  nature. 


COMMENCEMENT  OF  THE  HUNDRED  DAYS.  397 

I own  the  latter  scene  was  on  that  day  to  my  mind  vastly 
preferable  to  the  first.  The  countenance  of  Napoleon  was 
metamorphosed — it  became  illuminated.  He  descended 
from  the  balcony  and  mounted  a gray  barb.  He  was  now 
obviously  in  his  element.  The  troops,  as  I have  said, 
amounted  to  about  ten  thousand  ; I did  not  conceive  the 
court  of  the  Tuilleries  could  hold  so  many. 

Napoleon  was  now  fully  exposed  to  our  view.  His  face 
acknowledged  the  effect  of  climate  ; his  forehead,  though 
high  and  thinly  strewn  with  hair,  did  not  convey  to  me  any 
particular  trait  ; his  eyebrows,  when  at  rest,  were  not  ex- 
pressive, neither  did  his  eyes  on  that  occasion  speak  much  ; 
but  the  lower  part  of  his  face  fixed  my  attention  at  once. 
It  was  about  his  mouth  and  chin  that  his  character  seemed 
to  be  concentrated.  I thought,  on  the  whole,  that  I could 
perceive  a mixture  of  steadiness  and  caprice,  of  passion  and 
generosity,  of  control  and  impetuousness. 

But  my  attention  was  soon  turned  aside  to  the  inspection 
itself.  There  was  not  a soldier  who  did  not  appear  nearly 
frantic  with  exultation,  and  whose  very  heart,  I believe,  did 
not  beat  in  unison  with  the  hurrahs  wherewith  they  received 
their  favourite  leader. 

It  was  the  first  time  I had  ever  heard  a crowd  express  its 
boisterous  pleasure  in  a tone  of  sensibility  unknown  in  our 
country.  The  troops  were  in  earnest,  and  so  was  the 
general.  The  Old  Guard  (including  such  as  had  returned 
from  Elba  and  such  as  had  rejoined  their  colours)  formed  a 
body  of  men  superior  to  any  I had  ever  before  witnessed. 
Descriptions  of  Napoleon  amidst  his  soldiers  are,  however, 
so  common  that  I will  not  occupy  either  the  reader’s  time  or 
my  own  by  enlarging  further  on  the  subject, 


39§ 


Barrington’s  recollections. 


I 


CHAPTER  XLV. 

THE  ENGLISH  IN  PARIS. 

Shortly  after  this  period  I became  particularly  intimate 
with  Dr.  Marshal],  a circumstance  which,  in  the  paucity  of 
English  who  had  remained  in  Paris,  was  productive  to  me 
of  great  satisfaction.  He  was  a man  of  prepossessing 
appearance  and  address  ; had  travelled  much  ; had  acted,  he 
informed  me,  as  physicain  to  the  army  in  Egypt,  etc.  ; and 
had  gone  on  some  confidential  mission  to  Murat  whilst  King 
of  Naples.  His  wife  was  a pretty  woman,  rather  embonpoint , 
about  thirty,  and  with  the  complete  appearance  and  address 
of  a gentlewoman.  The  doctor  kept  a very  handsome 
establishment,  and  entertained  small  companies  splendidly. 

The  society  I generally  met  there  consisted,  in  the  first 
place,  of  Colonel  Macirone,  who  passed  for  an  Italian,  and 
had  been  aid-de-camp  to  Murat,  but  was,  I believe,  in  fact 
the  son  of  a respectable  manufacturer  in  London,  or  on 
Blackheath.  He  has  published  an  account  of  the  romantic 
circumstances  attendant  on  the  death  of  the  ill-fated  Murat. 
Another  member  of  the  society  was  Count  Julien,  formerly, 
I believe,  some  secretary  or  civil  officer  of  Murat,  a huge, 
boisterous,  overbearing,  fat  man,  consequential  without 
being  dignified,  dressy  without  being  neat,  and  with  a showy 
politeness  that  wanted  even  the  elements  of  civility.  Count 
Julien  was  the  only  person  I met  at  Dr.  Marshall’s  whose 
character  or  occupation  I had  any  suspicions  about. 

Fouche  was  then  the  emperor’s  minister  of  police,  and  they 
all  appeared  to  be  more  or  less  acquainted  with  him  ; but  I 
had  not  at  first  the  slightest  idea  that  they  were  everyone  of 
them  either  spies  or  employes  of  the  police  minster,  and  but 
hollow  friends,  if  not  absolute  traitors,  to  Napoleon. 


THE  ENGLISH  IN  PARIS. 


399 


I met  several  other  gentlemen  less  remarkable  at  Dr. 
Marshall’s,  but  only  one  lady  appeared  besides  the  mistress 
of  the  house.  This  was  a plain,  rational,  sedate  woman 
under  forty.  She  was  introduced  to  us  by  Mrs.  Marshall  as 
the  wife  of  a relative  of  Fouche,  and  at  that  time  (with  her 
husband)  on  a visit  to  his  excellency  at  his  hotel,  Rue 
Cerutti. 

One  day  before  dinner  at  Dr.  Marshall’s  house  I observed 
this  lady,  on  our  arrival,  hurrying  into  Mrs.  Marshall’s 
boudoir,  and  when  dinner  was  announced  she  re-entered 
decked  out  with  a set  of  remarkable  coral  ornaments  which 
I had  seen  Mrs.  Marshall  wear  several  times.  This  circum- 
stance struck  me  at  the  moment,  but  was  neither  recollected 
nor  accounted  for  till  we  paid  an  unlucky  visit  to  that  “ rela- 
tive of  Fouche,”  when  the  whole  enigma  became  developed, 
and  my  suspicions  fairly  aroused. 

Dr.  Marshall  meanwhile  continued  to  gain  much  on  my 
esteem.  He  saw  that  I was  greedy  of  information  as  to  the 
affairs  of  Italy,  and  he,  as  well  as  Colonel  Macirone,  satu- 
rated me  in  consequence  with  anecdotes  of  the  court  of 
Naples,  and  of  Murat  himself,  highly  entertaining,  and,  I 
believe,  tolerably  true  ; for  I do  really  think  that  Macirone 
was  sincerely  attached  to  that  king,  and  attended  his  person 
with  friendship  and  sincerity.  On  the  contrary,  Count 
Julien  seemed  incapable  of  possessing  much  feeling,  and 
perfectly  indifferent  as  to  anybody’s  fate  but  his  own.  This, 
however,  I only  give  as  my  individual  opinion.  I soon  lost 
sight  of  the  man  altogether. 

In  the  midst  of  this  agreeable  and  respectable  society  I 
passed  my  time  during  the  greater  part  of  the  Hundred 
Days  ; and  Doctor  Marshall  informing  me,  I believe  truly, 
that  he  was  on  terms  of  confidence,  though  not  immediately, 
with  Fouche,  and  well  knowing  that  he  might  with  perfect 
security  communicate  anything  to  me,  seeing  that  I should 
be  silent  for  my  own  sake,  scarcely  a day  passed  but  we  had 


400  Barrington’s  recollections. 

much  conversation  in  his  garden,  and  he  certainly  did  give 
me  very  correct  information  as  to  the  state  of  affairs  and  the 
condition  of  the  emperor,  together  with  much  that  was  not 
equally  correct  regarding  himself.  This  I occasionally  and 
partially  perceived,  but  his  address  was  imposing  and  par- 
ticularly agreeable. 

We  had  also  cultivated  our  acquaintance  (originated 
through  the  adventure  of  the  shawls)  with  Colonel  Gowen, 
of  the  National  Guards,  whose  hotel  in  Rue  Clichy  bore  a 
most  extraordinary  castellated  appearance,  and  was  sur- 
rounded by  very  large  gardens,  where  we  were  nobly  enter- 
tained ; the  leads  of  the  hotel  overlooked  Tivoli,  and  indeed 
every  place  about  Paris.  The  colonel  lived  extremely  well, 
spoke  English  perfectly,  and  might,  in  fact,  be  mistaken  for 
an  hospitable  officer  of  a British  yeomanry  corps. 

Another  gentleman  I also  happened  accidentally  to  meet, 
who  was  an  English  subject,  and  whom  I had  known  many 
years  previously.  We  became  intimate,  and  I derived  both 
utility  and  information  from  that  intimacy.  This  gentleman 
knew,  and  had  long  known,  much  more  of  French  affairs  and 
individuals  than  any  of  my  other  acquaintances,  and  being 
at  the  same  time  replete  with  good  nature  and  good  sense 
(with  his  politics  I had  nothing  to  do),  I could  not  fail  to  be 
a gainer  by  our  intercourse,  which  has  continued  undi- 
minished to  this  day. 

Another  and  more  remarkable  personage,  Mr.  Arthur 
O’Connor,  was  then  a French  general  unemployed.  I had 
known  him  thirty  years  before.  He  had  married  the 
daughter  and  sole  heiress  of  the  unfortunate  and  learned 
Marquess  de  Condorcet  ; had  been  plundered  of  his  Irish 
property  by  his  brother  Roger,  and  was  prohibited  from 
returning  to  his  native  country  by  Act  of  Parliament. 
General  Arthur  O’Connor  was  a remarkably  strong-minded, 
clever  man,  with  a fine  face  and  a manly  air  ; he  had  besides 
a great  deal  of  Irish  national  character,  to  some  of  the  failings 


THE  ENGLISH  IN  PARIS. 


4OI 


whereof  he  united  several  of  its  best  qualities.  I met  him 
frequently,  and  relished  his  company  highly.  For  old 
acquaintance  sake  I professed  and  felt  a friendship  for  the 
man  ; and  differing  as  we  did  wholly  upon  public  subjects, 
we  talked  over  all  without  arguing  upon  any,  which  is  the 
only  agreeable  method  of  conversation  amongst  persons 
whose  opinions  do  not  coincide. 

Lord  and  Lady  Kinnaird  were  also  in  Paris  at  that  period. 
I did  not  pay  my  respects  to  them  for  a very  singular, 
though  at  such  a time  a very  sufficient  reason.  Her  lady- 
ship was  the  daughter  of  one  of  my  most  respected  friends, 
the  late  Duke  of  Leinster,  to  every  member  of  whose  family 
I owe  all  possible  attention  ; but  Lord  Kinnaird,  by  over- 
acting his  part,  had  drawn  on  himself  an  absurd  degree  of 
suspicion  ; and  I had  been  informed  by  a friend  in  confi- 
dence that  every  person  who  was  seen  visiting  him  was 
immediately  suspected  likewise,  and  put  secretly  under 
surveillance , which  would  not  have  been  particularly  agree- 
able to  me.  In  a little  time  this  information  was  curiously 
illustrated.  I was  informed  that  Lord  Kinnaird  had  been 
arrested  by  order  of  Fouche  ; but  Fouche  soon  found  he  had 
fallen  into  a very  ridiculous  error  ; and  I believe  his  lordship 
was  immediately  liberated  with  an  ample  apology.  I heard 
also  incidentally  amongst  the  employes  (for  I took  care  at  all 
times  to  display  no  inordinate  curiosity,  even  though  I might 
be  literally  bursting  with  that  feeling)  that  his  lordship  was 
accustomed  to  express  himself  so  hyperbolically  in  favour 
of  Napoleon,  that  the  police,  to  whom  everything  was 
made  known  by  unsuspected  domestics,  could  not  give  his 
lordship  credit  for  sincerity,  and,  therefore,  took  for  granted 
that  he  was  playing  some  game  or  other ; in  fact,  they  fancied 
he  was  a spy  ! — using  ultra  eulogiums  on  the  emperor  to 
cloak  a secret  design. 

Messrs.  Hobhouse  and  Bruce  were  both  in  Paris  at  the 
same  period,  and  I have  often  regretted  that  I did  not  know 

(D  311)  ID 


402 


BARRINGTON’S  RECOLLECTIONS. 


them.  I afterwards  knew  the  latter  well,  when  in  La  Force 
with  Sir  R.  Wilson  and  my  friend  Mr.  J.  Hutchinson,  for 
assisting  the  escape  of  Lavalette.  I found  in  Mr.  Bruce 
some  excellent  qualities,  and  a thirst  after  information,  which 
I admire  in  anybody. 

These,  together  with  the  family  of  Mr.  Talbot,  were  the 
only  English  persons  whom  I met  in  Paris  immediately  after 
my  arrival,  and  during  the  most  momentous  crisis  Europe 
ever  witnessed.  That  point  of  time  formed  the  pivot 
whereon  the  future  destiny  of  every  nation  in  the  fairest 
quarter  of  the  globe  was  vibrating  ; but  I am  here  trenching 
on  a subject  in  which  the  nature  of  this  work  does  not 
permit  me  to  indulge. 

The  successive  occurrences  at  Paris  after  Napoleon’s 
return  were  daily  published,  and  are  known  to  everybody. 
The  press  was  free  from  restraint,  and  every  public  act 
recorded.  It  was,  therefore,  to  the  private  acts  and  char- 
acters of  men  I applied  my  observation,  as  forming  the  best 
ground  for  speculative  opinions  (which  that  portentous 
interval  necessarily  tended  to  stimulate),  and  likewise  as 
calculated  to  yield  the  best  materials  for  future  entertainment. 

Dr.  Marshall  was,  as  I have  already  stated,  on  some 
occasions  confidentially  employed  by  Fouche  ; and  placing 
confidence  in  me,  perhaps  not  duly  estimating  the  extent  of 
my  curiosity,  he  was  very  communicative.  In  fact,  not  a 
day  passed,  particularly  after  Napoleon’s  return  from  Water- 
loo, that  I did  not  make  some  discovery  through  the  doctor 
(as  much  from  his  air  of  mystery  as  from  his  direct  admis- 
sions) of  Fouche’s  flagitious  character,  and  of  the  ductility 
and  total  absence  of  principle  exhibited  by  several  of  his 
employes . 

The  intelligence  I daily  acquired  did  not  surprise  but 
greatly  disgusted  me.  I hate  treachery  in  all  its  rami- 
fications ; it  is  not,  generally  speaking,  a French  character- 
istic, but  Fouche  certainly  displayed  a complete  personifi- 


THE  ENGLISH  IN  PARIS. 


403 


cation  of  that  vice.  Spies  and  traitors  generally  do  each 
other  strict  justice  by  the  operation  and  exercise  of  mutual 
hatred,  contempt,  and  invective.  I never  heard  one  such 
person  say  a kind  word  of  another  behind  his  back  ; and  when 
a man  is  necessitated  by  policy  to  puff  a brother  villain,  it  is 
not  difficult  for  a stander-by  to  decipher  the  sneer  of  jealousy 
and  mental  reservation  distorting  the  muscles  of  the  speaker’s 
countenance,  and  involuntarily  disclosing  the  very  feeling 
which  he  was  perhaps  desirous  to  conceal. 

Thus  was  it  with  the  various  tools  of  the  treacherous 
minister  ; and  in  his  own  countenance  were  engraven  dis- 
tinctly the  characteristics  of  cunning  and  insincerity. 
From  the  first  moment  I saw  Fouche,  and  more  particularly 
when  I heard  him  falsely  swear  fidelity  to  his  imperial 
master,  I involuntarily  imbibed  a strong  sensation  of  dislike. 
His  features  held  out  no  inducement  to  you  to  place  confi- 
dence in  their  owner  ; on  the  contrary,  they  could  not  but 
tend  to  beget  distrust  and  disesteem.  The  suspicions  which 
they  generated  in  me  I never  could  overcome,  and  the  sequel 
proved  how  just  they  were. 

After  a while  I began  slightly  to  suspect  the  species  of 
society  I was  associating  with,  and  it  occurred  to  me  to 
request  that  Lady  Barrington  would  pay  a visit  to  the  lady 
we  had  met  at  Doctor  Marshall’s,  and  whom  we  had  under- 
stood from  Mrs.  Marshall  to  be  on  a visit  to  Fouche,  her 
relative.  I proposed  to  go  also,  and  leave  my  card  for  her 
husband,  whom  we  had  not  yet  seen.  We  accordingly 
waited  on  them  at  Fouche’s  hotel,  and  asked  the  Swiss  if 
Madame  was  at  home. 

“ Madame  ! ” said  the  porter  ; “ Madame  ! quelle 

Madame  ? ” as  if  he  had  heard  us  imperfectly.  We  had 
forgotten  her  name,  and  could,  therefore,  only  reply, 
“ Madame  la  parente  de  Monsieur  le  Ministre .” 

“ There  is  no  such  person  here,  Monsieur,”  replied  the 
Swiss  with  a half-saucy  shrug. 


404  Barrington’s  recollections. 

“ Oh,  yes,  exclaimed  I,  0 she  is  on  a visit  to  the  Due 
D’Otrante.” 

“ Non , non , Monsieur  et  Madame ,”  repeated  the  pertina- 
cious Swiss  ; “ point  de  tout  ! ” and  he  seemed  impatient  to 
send  us  away  ; but  after  a moment’s  pause  the  fellow  burst 
out  into  a violent  fit  of  laughter.  “ I beg  your  pardon, 
Monsieur  et  Madame,”  said  he,  “ I begin  to  understand 
whom  you  mean.  Your  friend  undoubtedly  resides  in  the 
hotel,  but  she  is  just  now  from  home. 

I handed  him  our  cards  for  her  and  her  husband.  On 
reading  “ Le  Chevalier  et  Milady  ” the  man  looked  more 
respectful,  but  apparently  could  not  control  his  laughter. 
When,  however,  he  at  length  recovered  himself,  he  bowed 
very  low,  begged  pardon  again,  and  said  he  thought  we  had 
been  inquiring  for  some  vraie  madame.  The  word  stimu- 
lated my  curiosity,  and  I hastily  demanded  its  meaning  ; 
when  it  turned  out  that  monsieur  was  the  maitre  d ’hotel, 
and  madame , his  wife,  looked  to  the  linen,  china,  etc.,  in 
quality  of  confidential  housekeeper  ! 

We  waited  to  hear  no  more.  I took  up  our  cards  and 
away  we  went,  and  my  suspicions  as  to  that  lady’s  rank  were 
thus  set  at  rest.  I did  not  say  one  word  of  the  matter  at 
Dr.  Marshall’s,  but  I suppose  the  porter  told  the  ladyy  as  we 
never  saw  her  afterward,  nor  her  husband  at  all. 

I now  began  to  perceive  my  way  more  clearly,  and  re- 
doubled my  assiduity  to  decipher  the  events  which  passed 
around  me.  In  this  I was  aided  by  an  increased  intimacy 
with  Colonel  Macirone,  whom  closer  acquaintance  confirmed 
as  an  agreeable  and  gentlemanly  man,  and  who,  in  my 
opinion,  was  very  badly  selected  as  an  espion  ; I believe  his 
heart  was  above  his  degrading  occupation. 

I perceived  that  there  was  some  plot  going  forward,  the 
circumstances  of  which  it  was  beyond  my  power  to  develop. 
The  manner  of  the  persons  I lived  amongst  was  perpetually 


THE  ENGLISH  IN  PARIS.  405 

undergoing  some  shade  of  variation  ; the  mystery  thickened, 
and  my  curiosity  increased  with  it. 

In  the  end  this  curiosity  was  most  completely  gratified  ; 
but  all  I could  determine  on  at  the  moment  was  that  there 
existed  an  extensive  organised  system  of  deception  and 
treachery,  at  the  bottom  of  which  was  undoubtedly  Fouche 
himself ; whether,  however,  my  employe  acquaintances 
would  ultimately  betray  the  emperor  or  his  minister  seemed, 
from  their  evidently  loose  political  principles,  quite  problem- 
atical. I meanwhile  dreaded  everybody,  yet  affected  to  fear 
none,  and  listened  with  an  air  of  unconcern  to  the  stories 
of  my  valet,  Henry  Thevenot,  though  at  that  time  I gave 
them  no  credit.  Subsequent  occurrences,  however,  ren- 
dered it  manifest  that  this  man  procured,  somehow  or  other, 
sure  information. 

Amongst  other  matters,  Thevenot  said  he  knew  well  that 
there  was  an  intention,  if  opportunity  occurred,  of  assassi- 
nating Napoleon  on  his  road  to  join  the  army  in  Belgium.* 
I did  not  much  relish  being  made  the  depository  of  such 
dangerous  secrets,  and  ordered  my  servant  never  to  mention 
before  me  again  “ any  such  ridiculous  stories,”  otherwise  I 
should  discharge  him  as  an  unsafe  person.  Yet  I could  not 
keep  his  tongue  from  wagging,  and  I really  dreaded  dismiss- 
ing him.  He  said  “ that  Fouche  was  a traitor  to  his  master, 
that  several  of  the  cannon  at  Montmartre  were  rendered 
unserviceable,  and  that  mines  had  been  charged  with  gun- 
powder under  various  parts  of  the  city  preparatory  to  some 
attempt  at  counter-revolution.” 

* I have  often  thought  that  the  ultimate  desertion  of  the  Mameluke 
who  had  always  been  retained  by  Napoleon  about  his  person  had  some 
very  deep  reason  for  it,  and  to  this  moment  that  circumstance  appears  to 
require  clearing  up. 


406 


Barrington’s  recollections. 


CHAPTER  XL VI. 

inauguration  of  the  emperor. 

The  days  rolled  on,  and  in  their  train  brought  summer  and 
the  month  of  June — on  the  8th  day  of  which  the  peers  and 
deputies  of  the  legislative  body  were  summoned  to  attend 
collectively  at  two  o’clock  in  the  Chamber  of  Deputies,  to 
receive  the  emperor  and  take  the  oath  of  fidelity  to  him  and 
to  the  Constitution,  in  the  midst  of  all  the  splendour  which 
the  brilliant  metropolis  of  France  could  supply.  The 
abduction  of  the  regalia  by  some  friends  of  King  Louis,  when 
they  ran  away  to  Ghent,  had  left  Napoleon  without  any 
crown  wherewith  to  gratify  the  vanity  of  a people  at  all 
times  devoted  to  every  species  of  spectacle  ; he  had  only  a 
button  and  loop  of  brilliants  v/hich  fastened  up  his  Spanish 
hat,  over  the  sides  whereof  an  immense  plumage  hung  nod- 
ding. But  this  was  such  a scene  and  such  an  occasion  that 
a wreath  of  laurel  would  have  become  the  brow  of  Napoleon 
far  better  than  all  the  diamonds  in  the  universe  ! The 
whole  of  the  imperial  family  were  to  be  present. 

The  number  of  persons  who  could  be  admitted  as  spec- 
tators into  the  gallery  was  necessarily  very  limited  ; and  in  a 
great  metropolis,  where  everybody  is  devoted  to  show,  the 
difficulty  of  procuring  admission  would,  I conceived,  be  of 
course  proportionably  great.  It  may  be  well  imagined  that 
I was  indefatigable  in  seeking  to  obtain  tickets,  as  this  spec- 
tacle was  calculated  to  throw  everything  besides  that  I had 
witnessed  in  Paris  completely  into  the  background  ; and 
what  tended  still  more  to  whet  the  edge  of  my  curiosity  was 
the  reflection  that  it  would  in  all  probability  be  the  last 
opportunity  I should  have  of  deliberately  viewing  the 


INAUGURATION  OF  THE  EMPEROR.  407 

emperor,  whose  departure  from  Paris  to  join  the  army  was 
immediately  contemplated. 

I,  therefore,  made  interest  with  everybody  I knew  ; I even 
wrote  to  the  authorities,  and,  in  short,  left  no  means  what- 
ever untried  which  suggested  themselves  to  me.  At  length, 
when  I began  to  think  my  chance  but  a very  poor  one,  on 
the  day  actually  preceding  the  ceremony,  to  my  unspeakable 
gratification,  I received  a note  from  the  chamberlain, 
enclosing  an  admission  for  one , which  the  difficulty  I had 
everywhere  encountered  led  me  to  esteem  a great  favour.  I 
did  not  think  that  at  my  age  I could  possibly  be  so  anxious 
about  anything  ; but  I believe  there  are  few  persons  who  will 
not  admit  that  the  excitement  was  great,  occasioned  by  the 
prospect  of  contemplating,  for  a length  of  time  and  in  a con- 
venient situation,  the  bodily  presence  of  a man  to  whom 
posterity  is  likely  to  award  greater  honours  than  can  be 
conceded  to  him  by  the  prejudices  of  the  present 
race. 

The  programme  announced  that  all  Napoleon’s  marshals 
and  generals,  together  with  the  veterans  of  his  staff  and  the 
male  branches  of  his  family,  were  to  be  grouped  around  him, 
as  were  likewise  several  of  those  statesmen  whose  talents  had 
helped  originally  to  raise  him  to  the  throne,  and  whose 
treachery  afterwards  succeeded  in  hurling  him  a second  time 
from  it.  The  peers  and  deputies,  in  their  several  ranks  and 
costumes,  were  each,  individually  and  distinctly,  on  that  day 
to  swear  new  allegiance  to  their  emperor,  and  a lasting 
obedience  to  the  constitution. 

The  solemnity  of  Napoleon’s  inauguration,  and  that  of  his 
promulgating  the  new  constitution  at  the  Champ  de  Mars, 
made  by  far  the  greatest  impression  on  my  mind  of  all  the 
remarkable  public  or  private  occurrences  I had  ever  wit- 
nessed. The  intense  interest,  the  incalculable  importance 
not  only  to  France,  but  to  the  world,  of  those  two  great 
events,  generated  reflections  within  me  more  weighty  and 


408 


Barrington’s  recollections. 


profound  than  any  I had  hitherto  entertained  ; whilst 
the  variety  of  glittering  dresses,  the  novelty  and  the  ever- 
changing  nature  of  the  objects  around  me,  combined  to  cheat 
me  almost  into  a belief  that  I had  migrated  to  fairyland,  and 
in  fact  to  prevent  me  from  fixing  my  regards  on  anything. 

The  first  of  those  days  was  the  more  interesting  to  France, 
the  second  to  Europe  at  large.  Though  totally  unparalleled 
in  all  their  bearings,  and  dissimilar  from  every  other  his- 
torical incident,  ancient  or  modern,  yet  these  solemnities 
seem  to  have  been  considered  by  most  who  have  written  upon 
the  subject  as  little  more  than  ordinary  transactions.  Were  I 
to  give  my  feelings  full  play  in  reciting  their  effect  on  myself, 
I should  at  this  calmer  moment  be  perhaps  set  down  as  a 
visionary  or  enthusiast.  I shall,  therefore,  confine  myself  to 
simple  narrative. 

The  procession  of  the  emperor  from  the  Tuilleries  to  the 
Chambers,  though  short,  was  to  have  been  of  the  most  impos- 
ing character.  But,  much  as  I wished  to  see  it,  I found  that 
by  such  an  attempt  I might  lose  my  place  in  the  gallery  of 
the  Chamber  and  consequently  the  view  of  the  inauguration 
scene.  At  eleven  o’clock,  therefore,  I brought  my  family  to 
a house  on  the  quay,  for  which  I had  previously  paid  dearly, 
and  where,  having  placed  them  at  a window,  I repaired 
myself  to  the  Chamber  of  Deputies,  in  company  of  a French 
colonel,  who  had  been  introduced  to  us  by  Colonel  Gowen, 
and  who  kindly  undertook  to  be  my  usher,  and  to  point  out 
to  me  the  most  celebrated  warriors  and  generals  of  the  guard 
and  army,  who  in  groups  promenaded  the  courts  and  gardens 
of  the  Senate  House,  awaiting  the  appointed  hour  for  parad- 
ing to  receive  the  emperor.  This  gentleman,  in  fact,  intro- 
duced me  to  several  officers  and  persons  of  rank,  and  though 
at  that  moment  war,  attended  by  all  its  horrors,  was  deemed 
inevitable,  I was  addressed  with  a courtesy  and  gentlemanly 
frankness  which,  under  similar  circumstances,  would  in  any 
other  country,  I fear,  have  been  wanting.  They  spoke  without 


INAUGURATION  OF  THE  EMPEROR.  409 

reserve  of  the  tremendous  struggle  about  to  be  commenced, 
but  not  a man  of  them  appeared  to  me  to  have  a single 
doubt  of  triumphing  ; and  had  my  own  country  been  neutral 
or  uninterested,  I certainly  should  have  preferred  the  bril- 
liance of  Napoleon's  despotism  to  the  contracted,  glimmering 
tyranny  of  his  Continental  enemies.  But  I knew  that  Great 
Britain  was  implicated.  Napoleon  and  England  might 
coalesce  for  a moment,  but  I felt  that  the  ascendancy  of  the 
former  was  incompatible  with  the  power  of  the  latter,  and  I 
was  chilled  by  the  reflection  which,  in  some  degree,  abated 
my  relish  for  the  striking  scene  before  me. 

Amongst  other  individuals  of  note  presented  to  me  by  the 
colonel  was  Labedoyere,  who  was  destined  so  soon  to  atone 
with  the  forfeiture  of  his  life  for  his  fidelity  to  his  first  patron. 
I had  heard  then  nothing  particular  of  this  man,  and  con- 
sequently took  but  little  notice  of  him.  There  was  not  one 
whom  I remarked  more  than  Ney,  then  Prince  of  Moskwa. 
“ That,"  said  the  colonel,  as  he  pointed  him  out  to  me,  “ is 
the  greatest  sabreur  in  Europe  ” ; and  Ney’s  rough,  manly, 
sunburnt  countenance,  well  set  off  by  his  muscular,  warlike 
figure,  confirmed  the  character.  “ There,"  continued  my 
informant,  pointing  to  a civilian  in  full  dress,  “ is  one  of  the 
truest  partisans  the  emperor  has  in  France,  Count  Thibau- 
deau.”  I had  previously  remarked  the  person  to  whom  my 
attention  was  thus  directed  as  one  not  formed  of  common 
materials,  and  had  occasion  soon  after  to  observe  him  still 
more  particularly. 

So  many  of  the  objects  of  that  day  have  been  sketched  in 
various  publications,  that  I shall  not  endeavour  to  give  any- 
thing in  the  shape  of  a list  of  them,  but  content  myself  with 
the  mention  of  those  which  struck  me  most  forcibly  at  the 
moment. 

Whoever  was  in  Paris  during  the  Hundred  Days  must 
have  seen  the  Old  Guard  of  Napoleon.  Such  a body  of 
soldiers,  all  appearing  of  the  self-same  character,  I believe 


410  BARRINGTON’S  RECOLLECTIONS. 

never  was  collected  ! Their  Herculean  vigour,  more  than 
the  height  of  their  persons,  was  remarkable,  and  their  dark, 
deep-furrowed  visages  (enveloped  in  moustaches  and  sur- 
mounted by  the  bear’s-skin  of  their  lofty  caps  glittering  with 
ornaments)  combined,  together  with  their  arms,  their  clothes, 
and  more  particularly  their  steadiness,  to  exhibit  to  me  the 
most  complete  model  of  genuine  soldiers.  Their  looks, 
though  the  very  emblem  of  gravity  and  determination,  were 
totally  devoid  of  ferocity  ; and  I could  fancy  the  grenadiers 
of  the  Old  Guard  to  be  heroes  uniting  the  qualities  of  fidelity, 
of  valour,  and  of  generosity.  Their  whole  appearance,  in- 
deed, was  most  attractive. 

The  cavalry  had  dismounted,  and  were  sitting  around  on 
the  steps  and  parapets  of  the  edifice,  mostly  employed  in 
sharpening  their  sabres  with  small  hones,  and  the  whole 
seemed  to  me  as  if  actuated  only  by  an  ardent  wish  to  pro- 
ceed to  action.  One  officer  asked  me  in  English,  rather 
more  freely  than  the  rest,  if  I knew  the  British  commander, 
Lord  Wellington  ? I said  I did.  “ Well,”  replied  he,  “ we 
shall  have  a brush  with  him  before  the  week  is  over  ! ” and 
turned  away  with  an  expression  strongly  indicative  of  con- 
tempt. I believe  Lord  Wellington  did  not  quite  anticipate 
the  short  time  that  would  be  given  him  by  his  opponents. 
My  observations  and  introductions  were,  however,  at  length 
interrupted  by  the  first  cannon,  which  announced  that 
the  emperor  had  commenced  his  passage  for  the  Tuilleries. 
All  was  in  immediate  bustle  ; the  drums  beat,  the  trumpets 
sounded,  the  deputies  and  officials  flocked  into  their  halls, 
the  cuirassiers  were  mounted,  the  grenadiers  in  line,  the 
officers  at  their  stations,  and  in  five  minutes  the  mingled  and 
motley  crowd  was  arranged  in  order  so  regular  and  so 
silently  assumed  that  it  was  almost  impossible  to  suppose 
they  had  ever  been  in  confusion.  The  different  bands 
struck  up  ; they  had  received  orders  respecting  the  airs  that 
should  be  played  as  the  emperor  approached,  which  they 


INAUGURATION  OF  THE  EMPEROR.  4II 

began  to  practise,  and  the  whole  scene,  almost  in  a moment, 
wore  an  aspect  entirely  new. 

The  firing  of  cannon  continued  ; the  emperor  had 
advanced  along  the  quays,  and  passed  over  that  very  spot 
where  the  last  French  monarch  had,  twenty  years  before, 
been  immolated  by  his  subjects.  The  word  enthusiasm, 
strong  as  its  meaning  is  generally  held  to  be,  really  failed 
on  this  occasion  to  express  as  much  as  the  military  seemed  to 
feel.  The  citizens  who  thronged  around  did  not,  however, 
it  is  true,  appear  to  partake  in  this  sentiment  to  anything 
like  a corresponding  extent.  Whether  it  was  that  they 
felt  it  not,  or  that  they  were  conscious  of  acting  a surbodi- 
nate  part  in  the  pageant,  which  unquestionably  bore  too 
much  of  a military  character,  I do  not  know. 

I proceeded  without  delay  to  the  stairs  which  led  to  my 
loge , as  noted  on  my  admission  ticket.  This  loge , however, 
it  turned  out  to  be  no  easy  matter  to  find.  My  heart  began 
to  sink  ; I inquired  of  everybody  ; some  did  not  understand, 
others  looked  contemptuously  ; nobody  would  pay  the  least 
attention  to  my  solicitations.  Thus  I seemed  likely  after  all 
to  lose  the  benefit  of  my  exertions.  Meanwhile,  every  new 
discharge  of  cannon  seemed  as  if  announcing,  not  only  the 
emperor’s  approach,  but  my  seclusion  from  the  Chamber, 
and  I was  fast  getting  into  a state  of  angry  hopelessness, 
when  an  officer  of  the  guard,  who  saw  that  I was  a foreigner, 
addressed  me  in  English.  I explained  to  him  tny  embar- 
rassments and  fears,  and  shewed  him  my  ticket.  He  told 
me  I was  on  the  wrong  side,  and  was  so  good  as  to  send  a 
soldier  with  me  to  the  door  of  the  box.  I rapped  and  was 
instantly  admitted.  There  were  two  rows  of  chairs,  and 
accommodation  for  three  persons  to  stand  behind.  I was 
one  of  the  latter,  and  it  was  impossible  to  be  better  situated 
for  hearing  and  seeing  everything.  My  loge  exactly  faced 
the  throne,  and  in  the  next  sat  the  emperor’s  mother  and  all 
the  females,  with  their  attendants.  I knew  nobody  ; I saw 


412 


BARRINGTON’S  RECOLLECTIONS. 


no  English  there.  There  was  one  person  in  full  dress  who 
was  said  to  be  un  Chevalier  Ecosse , and  who  having  distin- 
guished himself  and  announced  his  nation  by  making  an 
abominable  disturbance  about  something  or  other,  was  very 
properly  turned  out.  We  sat  in  silent  expectation  of  the 
emperor’s  arrival,  which  was  to  be  announced  by  the  cessa- 
tion of  the  repeated  salutes  of  artillery.  The  moments  were 
counted  ; the  peers  and  deputies  were  seated  in  their  places, 
all  in  full  dress — the  former  occupying  the  front  benches, 
and  the  deputies  ranged  behind  them.  Servants  of  the 
Chamber,  in  the  most  splendid  liveries  that  can  be  con- 
ceived, were  seen  busy  at  all  the  side  doors.  The  front 
door  was  underneath  our  loge  ; it  was,  therefore,  impossible 
for  me  to  see  the  effect  of  the  first  appearance  of  the 
emperor,  who  at  length,  followed  by  a numerous  retinue, 
crossed  the  Chamber — not  majestically,  but  with  rather 
hurried  steps.  Having  slightly  raised  his  hat,  he  seated 
himself  abruptly  on  the  throne,  and  wrapping  himself  in  his 
purple  cloak,  sat  silent. 

The  scene  was  altogether  most  interesting,  but  there  was 
no  time  for  contemplation.  The  whole  assembly  immedi- 
ately rose  ; and  if  a judgment  might  be  formed  from  the 
outward  expression  of  their  feelings,  it  would  be  inferred 
that  Napoleon  was  enthroned  in  the  heart  of  almost  every 
peer  and  deputy  who  that  day  received  him.  A loud,  con- 
tinued, and  unanimous  burst  of  enthusiastic  congratulation 
proceeded  from  every  quarter.  It  echoed  throughout  the 
whole  chamber,  and  had  all  the  attributes  of  sincerity.  One 
circumstance  I particularly  remarked,  the  old  cry  of  “Vive 
I’Empereur  ” was  discontinued,  and,  as  if  the  spectators* 
hearts  were  too  full  to  utter  more,  they  limited  themselves  to 
a single  word — “ V Empereur  ! V Empereur  l ” alone  bursting 
from  the  whole  assembly.  I found  afterwards  that  there 
was  a meaning  in  this — inasmuch  as  the  ceremony  was  not 
a mere  greeting,  it  was  an  inauguration  of  the  emperor.  It 


INAUGURATION  OF  THE  EMPEROR. 


4X3 


was  this  solemnity  which,  in  fact,  re-created  his  title  after 
his  formal  abdication,  and  the  assembly  thus  noted  the 
distinction. 

Meanwhile,  Napoleon  sat  apparently  unmoved  ; he  occa- 
sionally touched  his  hat,  but  spoke  not.  I stood  immedi- 
ately in  front  of  and  looking  down  on  the  throne,  and  being 
in  the  back  row,  could  use  my  opera-glass  without  observa- 
tion. Napoleon  was  at  that  moment,  all  circumstances  con- 
sidered, the  most  interesting  personage  in  existence.  His 
dress,  although  rich,  was  scarcely  royal.  He  was  not,  as  a 
king  should  be  by  prescription,  covered  with  jewels  ; he  had 
no  crown,  and  wore  the  same  dress  exactly  as  he  afterwards 
did  on  his  visit  to  the  Champ  de  Mars — namely,  a black 
Spanish  hat,  fastened  up  in  front  with  a diamond  loop  and 
button  ; heavy  plumes  of  ostrich  feathers,  which  hung  nod- 
ding over  his  forehead,  and  rather  a short  cloak  of  purple 
velvet,*  embroidered  with  golden  bees.  The  dimensions 
of  his  person  were  thus  concealed  ; but  his  stature,  which 
scarcely  attained  the  middle  height,  seemed  still  lower  on 
account  of  his  square-built  form  and  his  high  and  ungraceful 
shoulders  ; he  was,  in  fact,  by  no  means  a majestic  figure. 
I watched  his  eye — it  was  that  of  a hawk,  and  struck  me  as 
being  peculiarly  brilliant.  Without  moving  his  head  or  a 
single  muscle  of  his  countenance,  his  eye  was  everywhere, 
and  really  seemed  omniscient  ; an  almost  imperceptible 
transition  moved  it  from  place  to  place,  as  if  by  magic,  and  it 
was  fixed  steadily  upon  one  object  before  a spectator  could 
observe  its  withdrawal  from  another. 

Yet  even  at  this  moment,  powerful  as  was  the  spell  in 
which  Napoleon’s  presence  bound  the  spectator,  my  atten- 
tion was  drawn  aside  by  another  object  which  seemed  to  me 
to  afford  much  scope  for  contemplation  ; this  was  the 
emperor’s  mother.  I stood,  as  I have  already  said,  in  the 
next  loge  of  the  gallery  to  that  occupied  by  the  imperial 
family.  The  dutiful  and  affectionate  regard  of  Napoleon  to 


4*4 


Barrington’s  recollections. 


his  mother  is  universally  authenticated  ; and  as  his  nature 
was  not  framed  either  to  form  or  perpetuate  mere  attach- 
ments, of  course  it  was  natural  to  conclude  that  this  lady’s 
character  had  something  above  it  worthy  of  rank.  I was, 
therefore,  curious  to  trace,  as  far  as  possible,  the  impressions 
made  upon  her  by  the  passing  scene. 

Madame  Mere,  as  she  was  then  called,  was  a very  fine  old 
lady,  apparently  about  sixty,  but  looking  strong  and  in  good 
health.  She  was  not,  and  I believe  never  had  been,  a 
beauty,  but  was,  nevertheless,  well-looking,  and  possessed 
a cheerful,  comfortable  countenance.  In  short,  I liked  her 
appearance  ; it  was  plain  and  unassuming,  and  I set  my  mind 
to  the  task  of  scrutinising  her  probable  sensations  on  that 
important  day. 

Let  us  for  a moment  consider  the  situation  of  that  mother 
who,  whilst  in  a humble  sphere  of  life,  and  struggling  with 
many  difficulties,  had  borne,  nursed,  and  reared  a son,wTho  at 
an  early  age,  and  solely  by  his  own  superior  talents,  became 
ruler  of  one  of  the  fairest  portions  of  the  civilised  creation, 
to  whom  kings  and  princes  crouched  and  submitted,  and 
transferred  their  territories  and  their  subjects  at  his  will  and 
pleasure  ; to  whom  the  whole  world,  except  England,  had 
cringed  ; whom  one  great  emperor  had  flattered  and  fawned 
on,  handing  over  to  him  a favourite  daughter  even  whilst 
the  conqueror’s  true  wife  was  still  living  ; and  whom  the 
same  bewildered  emperor  had  afterwards  assisted  in  rousing 
all  Europe  to  overthrow — thus  dethroning  his  daughter,  dis- 
inheriting his  grandson,  and  exposing  himself  to  the  con- 
tempt and  derision  of  the  universe,  only  that  he  might  have 
the  gratification  of  enslaving  six  millions  of  the  Italian 
people  ! The  mother  of  Napoleon  had  seen  all  this,  and 
had  no  doubt  felt  bitterly  that  reverse  of  fortune  whereby 
her  son  had  been  expelled  and  driven  into  exile,  after  his 
long  dream  of  grandeur  and  almost  resistless  influence. 
W hat  then  must  be  the  sensations  of  that  mother  at  the  scene 


INAUGURATION  OF  THE  EMPEROR. 


4*5 


we  are  describing  ! when  she  beheld  the  same  son  again 
hailed  Emperor  of  the  French,  restored  to  power  and  to  his 
friends  by  the  universal  assent  of  a great  nation  and  the  firm 
attachment  of  victorious  armies  ! He  remounted  his  throne 
before  her  eyes  once  more,  and  without  the  shedding  of  one 
drop  of  blood  was  again  called  to  exercise  those  functions 
of  royalty  from  which  he  had  been  a few  months  before 
excluded. 

It  was  under  these  impressions  that  I eagerly  watched  the 
countenance  of  that  delighted  lady  ; but  her  features  did 
not  appear  to  me  sufficiently  marked  to  give  full  scope  to 
the  indication  of  her  feeling.  I could  judge,  in  fact,  nothing 
from  any  other  feature  except  her  eye,  to  which,  when  I 
could  catch  it,  I looked  for  information.  At  first  I could 
see  only  her  profile  ; but  as  she  frequently  turned  round,  her 
emotions  were  from  time  to  time  obvious  ; a tear  occasion- 
ally moistened  her  cheek,  but  it  evidently  proceeded  from  a 
happy  rather  than  a painful  feeling — it  was  the  tear  of 
parental  ecstasy.  I could  perceive  no  lofty  sensations  of 
gratified  ambition — no  towering  pride — no  vain  and  empty 
arrogance — as  she  viewed  underneath  her  the  peers  and 
representatives  of  her  son’s  dominions.  In  fact,  I could 
perceive  nothing  in  the  deportment  of  Madame  Mere  that 
was  not  calculated  to  excite  respect  for  her  as  a woman,  and 
admiration  of  her  as  the  person  who  had  brought  into  the 
world  a man  for  many  years  the  most  successful  of  his 
species. 

From  observation  of  this  interesting  lady  I was  called  off 
by  the  scene  which  followed.  After  the  emperor  had  been 
awhile  seated  (his  brothers  and  the  public  functionaries 
around  him,  as  expressed  in  a printed  programme),  the  oath 
was  administered  to  the  peers  and  deputies  individually,  so 
that  each  was  distinctly  marked  by  name  ; and  what  I con- 
sidered most  fortunate  was  that  a French  gentleman,  who 
sat  immediately  before  me  (I  believe  some  public  officer)^ 


BARRINGTON’S  RECOLLECTIONS. 


416 


was  assiduous  in  giving  the  two  ladies  who  accompanied 
him  not  only  the  name  of  each  peer  or  deputy  as  he  took 
the  oath,  but  also  some  description  of  him.  I took  advan- 
tage of  this  incident,  and  in  a little  tablet  copied  down  the 
names  of  such  as  I have  heard  spoken  of  as  remarkable 
persons,  and  particularly  the  generals  and  marshals. 

Their  manner  of  administering  and  taking  the  oath  was 
very  different  from  ours.*  The  French  had,  from  the 
period  of  the  Revolution,  very  justly  conceived  that  an  oath 
of  any  description  would  not  be  one  atom  more  binding 
on  the  party  if  taken  upon  a book  than  if  trust  were  reposed 
in  their  mere  word  of  honour.  On  the  present  occasion 
each  person  as  his  name  was  called  over  arose,  and  holding 
out  his  right  arm  to  its  extent  (the  palm  of  the  hand  upper- 
most), deliberately  pronounced,  “ Je  jure  fidelite  a VEm- 
pereur , et  obedience  a la  Constitution . ” The  reader  will  easily 
believe  that  it  was  a source  of  the  utmost  interest  to  watch  the 
countenances  of  these  dignitaries  of  France  whilst  they  were 
engaged  in  performing  this  important  ceremonial.  My 
physiognomical  observation  was  kept  fully  on  the  stretch, 
and  was  never,  before  or  since,  so  sated  with  materials  to 
work  upon.  The  emperor  meanwhile,  as  I have  already 


* One  of  the  devices  to  prevent  the  accumulation  of  petty  larceny  in 
the  Court  of  Common  Pleas  of  Ireland  was  very  amusing.  Lord 
Norbury's  registrar,  Mr.  Peter  Jackson,  complained  grievously  to  his 
lordship  that  he  really  could  not  afford  to  supply  the  court  with  gospels 
or  prayer-books,  as  witnesses,  after  they  had  taken  their  oaths,  were  in 
the  constant  habit  of  stealing  the  hook.  “ Peter,”  said  Lord  Norbury, 
" if  the  rascals  read  the  book,  it  will  do  them  more  good  than  the  petty 
arceny  may  do  them  mischief.”  “ Read  or  not  read,”  urged  Peter, 
‘ they  are  rogues,  that’s  plain.  I have  tied  the  book  fast,  but  neverthe- 
less they  have  contrived  to  loosen  and  abstract  it.”  ” Well,  well,” 
replied  my  lord,  ” if  they  are  not  afraid  of  the  cord , hang  your  gospel 
in  chains,  and  that  perhaps,  by  reminding  the  fellows  of  the  fate  of  their 
fathers  and  grandfathers,  may  make  them  behave  themselves.”  Peter 
Jackson  took  the  hint;  provided  a good-looking,  well -bound  New 
Testament,  which  he  secured  with  a strong  jack-chain  that  had  evi- 
dently done  duty  before  the  kitchen  fire,  and  was  made  fast  to  the  rail 
of  the  jury  gallery.  Thus  the  holy  volume  had  free  scope  to  swing 
about  and  clink  as  much  as  it  chose,  to  the  great  terror  of  witnesses 
and  good  order  of  the  jurors  themselves. 


INAUGURATION  OF  THE  EMPEROR.  417 

mentioned,  sat  almost  immovable.  He  did  not  appear 
exhilarated  ; indeed,  on  the  other  hand,  I think  he  was  in- 
disposed. His  breast  heaved  at  times  very  perceptibly  ; an 
involuntary  convulsed  motion  agitated  his  lip  ; but  never 
did  I see  an  eye  more  indefatigable  and  penetrating  ! As 
each  man’s  name  was  called  and  the  oath  administered,  its 
regard  was  fixed  upon  the  individual  ; and  nothing  could  be 
more  curious  to  the  spectator  than  to  transfer  his  gaze  alter- 
nately from  the  party  taking  the  oath  to  the  emperor  himself. 
Some  of  the  peers  and  deputies  Napoleon’s  eye  passed  over 
with  scarcely  a look,  whilst  others  he  regarded  as  though 
disposed  to  penetrate  their  very  souls,  and  search  there  for 
proofs  of  a sincerity  he  considered  doubtful.  Some  seemed 
to  excite  a pleasurable,  others  a painful  sensation  within 
him — though  this  was  difficult  to  recognise,  inasmuch  as  his 
features  seldom,  and  never  more  than  slightly,  changed  their 
entire  expression.  The  countenances  of  the  members  them- 
selves were  more  easily  read,  and  afforded  in  many  instances 
good  clues,  whereby  if  not  the  real  feelings,  at  least  the 
tendency  of  the  parties  might  be  deciphered.  Some  stood 
boldly  up,  and  loudly  and  without  hesitation  took  the  oath  ; 
whilst  others,  in  slow,  tremulous  voices,  pledged  themselves 
to  what  they  either  never  meant  or  were  not  quite  certain  of 
their  ability  to  perform  ; and  a few  displayed  manifest 
symptoms  of  repugnance  in  their  manner.  But  the  scene 
was  of  that  nature — so  splendid,  so  generally  interesting — 
that  few  persons,  except  those  whose  habits  had  long  led 
them  to  the  study  of  mankind,  or  such  as  might  have  some 
especial  interest  in  the  result,  would  have  attended  to  these 
indications,  which  were,  of  course,  not  suffered  in  any 
instance  to  become  prominent. 

One  of  the  first  persons  who  took  the  oath  was  Fouche, 
Duke  of  Otranto.  I had  been  in  this  nobleman’s  office  on 
my  first  arrival  in  Paris,  and  had  marked  his  countenance. 
He  had  originally  been  a monk  (I  believe  a Jesuit),  and  was 

(D311)  IE 


418 


Barrington’s  recollections. 


on  all  hands  admitted  to  be  a man  of  the  utmost  talent,  but 
at  the  same  time  wholly  destitute  of  moral  principle — a man 
who,  in  order  to  attain  his  ends,  would  disregard  justice,  and 
set  opinion  at  insolent  defiance.  But  above  all,  Fouche’s 
reigning  character  was  duplicity  ; in  that  qualification  of  a 
statesman  he  had  no  rival.  Napoleon  knew  him  thoroughly, 
but,  circumstanced  as  he  was,  he  had  occasion  for  such  men. 

Yet  even  Fouche,  I really  think,  was  on  this  day  off  his 
guard.  He  was  at  the  time,  there  can  be  little  doubt,  in 
actual  communication  with  some  of  Napoleon’s  enemies  ; 
and  he  certainly  appeared,  whether  or  no  from  “ compunc- 
tious visitings  of  conscience,”  to  be  ill  at  his  ease.  I kept 
my  eye  much  on  him,  and  it  was  quite  obvious  to  me  that 
some  powerful  train  of  feeling  was  working  within  his  breast. 
On  his  name  being  called,  there  was  nothing  either  bold, 
frank,  or  steady  in  his  appearance  or  demeanour.  He  held 
out  his  hand  not  much  higher  than  his  hip,  and  in  a tone  of 
voice  languid,  if  not  faltering,  swore  to  a fidelity  which  he 
was  determined,  should  he  find  it  convenient,  to  renounce. 
I really  think  (and  my  eye  and  glass  were  full  upon  him) 
that  Fouche  at  the  moment  felt  his  own  treachery  ; a slight 
hectic  flush  passed  over  his  temples,  and  his  tongue  seemed 
to  cleave  to  his  mouth.  I cannot  account  for  my  impression 
further  than  this,  but  from  that  instant  I set  down  the  man 
as  a traitor  ! Napoleon  for  the  first  time  turned  his  head  as 
Fouche  tendered  his  allegiance.  I could  perceive  no  marked 
expression  in  the  emperor’s  countenance,  which  remained 
placid  and  steady  ; but  I could  not  help  thinking  that  even 
that  complacent  regard  (which  certainly  indicated  no  confi- 
dence, if  it  was  free  from  agitation)  seemed  to  say,  “ I know 
you  ! ” The  ceremony  proceeded,  and  after  a while  the 
name  was  called  of  a person  whom  I had  before  seen — Count 
Thibaudeau.  The  contrast  between  this  gentleman  and 
Fouche  was  very  remarkable.  He  stood  up  quickly,  and 
with  great  firmness  stepped  a little  forward,  and  held  his 


INAUGURATION  OF  THE  EMPEROR.  419 

arm  higher  than  his  shoulder.  “ Je  jure”  exclaimed  Count 
Thibaudeau,  “jejure”  repeating  the  words  with  emphasis, 
“ fidelite  a mon  Empereur  et  obedience  a la  Constitution  ! ” 
I watched  Napoleon’s  look  ; it  was  still  serene,  but  a ray  of 
gratification  was  not  absent,  and  shot  rapidly  across  his 
features.  The  business  at  length  terminated.  I treasured 
up  in  my  mind  the  impressions  made  upon  it  that  day,  and 
in  very  few  of  my  forebodings  was  I eventually  mistaken. 

The  inauguration  of  the  emperor  was  now  complete,  and 
the  reflection  was  extremely  solemn — that  all  the  powers  of 
Europe  were  armed  to  overthrow  the  business  of  that  morn- 
ing. Neither  peace  nor  truce  was  to  be  made  with  Napoleon, 
who  was,  on  his  part,  about  to  try  the  strength  of  France 
alone  against  a union  of  inveterate  and  inexorable  foes.  He 
was  now  about  to  inform  his  assembled  legislators  of  this 
decision,  and  to  make  a declaration  that  should  at  once 
rouse  the  French  people  generally,  and  instil  into  the  legis- 
lature a portion  of  his  own  energy. 

I was  all  expectation  ; the  critical  moment  arrived  ; the 
occasion,  the  place,  the  subject,  and  more  especially  the 
effect  expected  to  be  produced,  all  combined  in  leading  me 
to  anticipate  some  speech  more  impressive  than  any  I had 
ever  heard. 

The  emperor  rose  from  his  throne  rather  quickly,  raised 
his  hat  for  a moment,  and  looked  round  him  with  a glance 
which,  though  probably  meant  to  imply  confidence,  had  to 
me  the  expression  of  scrutiny . Having  done  this,  he  re- 
seated himself,  and  commenced  his  speech.  In  language  it 
was  well  adapted  to  the  French  soldiery  ; as  a proclamation 
it  might  be  considered  admirable  ; but  to  a legislative 
assembly,  it  seemed  to  me,  perhaps  erroneously,  ill  adapted. 
I did  expect,  at  all  events,  that  it  would  be  pronounced  with 
that  energy  which  was  indicative  of  the  speaker’s  character, 
but  miserably  was  I disappointed  ! Napoleon  read  it 
distinctly,  but,  to  my  mind,  utterly  without  effect ; there  was 


420 


Barrington’s  recollections. 


no  ardour,  no  emphasis,  no  modulation  of  voice,  no  action 
to  enforce  the  sentiment.  The  delivery  was  monotonous 
and  unimpressive  ; nor  can  I yet  conceive  how  it  was 
possible  such  a man  could  pronounce  such  a speech  without 
evincing  that  warmth  of  feeling  which  the  words,  as  well  as 
the  great  subject  itself,  to  say  nothing  of  his  own  situation, 
were  calculated  to  inspire.  The  French  in  general  read 
extremely  ill,  and  Napoleon’s  style  of  elocution  was  a very 
humble  specimen  even  of  theirs.  He  ran  the  sentences  into 
each  other  ; in  short,  seemed  to  view  the  whole  thing  as  a 
mere  matter  of  course,  and  to  be  anxious  to  get  through  it. 
It  put  me  more  in  mind  of  a solicitor  reading  a marriage- 
settlement  than  anything  else.  Here  and  there,  indeed,  he 
appeared  somewhat  touched  by  the  text,  and  most  probably 
he  himself  felt  it  all,  but  he  certainly  expressed  nothing  in  a 
manner  that  could  make  others  feel  it.  The  concluding 
words  of  the  speech,  “ This  is  the  moment  to  conquer  or  to 
perish,”  though  pronounced  by  Napoleon  with  little  more 
energy  than  the  preceding  parts  (much  as  if  he  had  been 
saying,  “ And  your  petitioner  will  ever  pray  ”),  made  a 
strong  and  visible  impression  upon  the  entire  auditory. 
Two  or  three  of  the  deputies  I observed,  by  (to  all  appear- 
ance) an  involuntary  movement,  put  th?ir  hands  on  their 
sword-hilts,  and  whispered  to  those  who  sat  next  them, 
and  amongst  the  military  officers  who  were  in  the  assembly 
there  was  evidently  a very  gallant  feeling.  I cast  my  eye 
at  this  moment  on  Fouche  ; he  was  looking  upon  the 
ground  seemingly  in  contemplation,  and  moved  not  a muscle. 

At  the  conclusion  of  his  speech,  Napoleon,  whose  vapid 
manner  had  considerably  damped  my  previous  excitement, 
immediately  descended  from  the  throne,  and  in  the  same 
state  and  amidst  redoubled  applauses  returned  to  the  palace 
to  make  his  last  preparations  to  put  into  execution  what  I 
have  since  heard  denominated  by  English  generals  the  finest 
military  manoeuvre  of  his  whole  life.  Two  things  seem  to 


INAUGURATION  OF  THE  EMPEROR. 


421 


be  universally  admitted  : that  the  first  object  of  that  train  of 
r/iovements,  namely,  the  surprise  and  division  of  the  allied 
troops,  was  completely  successful,  and  that  its  second  object, 
the  defeat  of  those  troops  in  a general  engagement,  was  so 
near  its  accomplishment  that  its  failure  may  almost  be 
regarded  as  miraculous. 

I returned  home  full  of  reflection.  I soon  recounted  all 
my  impressions  (particularly  with  respect  to  Fouche  and 
Napoleon)  to  my  family  and  two  or  three  friends  who  dined 
with  us.  I did  not  hesitate  to  speak  frankly  my  opinion  of 
the  game  playing  by  the  Duke  of  Otranto,  nor  did  any  long 
period  elapse  before  my  predictions  were  verified. 


422 


BARRINGTON'S  RECOLLECTIONS. 


CHAPTER  XLVII. 

PROMULGATION  OF  THE  CONSTITUTION. 

The  promulgation  of  the  new  Articles  of  the  Constitution  by 
Napoleon,  at  the  Champ  de  Mars,  promised  to  elicit  much 
of  the  public  sentiment.  For  my  own  part,  I conceived  that 
it  would  be  the  true  touchstone  of  Parisian  political  feeling, 
but  in  that  idea  I was  greatly  disappointed. 

It  was  natural  to  suppose  that  the  modification  of  a con- 
stitution by  a nearly  despotic  monarch,  whereby  his  own 
power  would  be  greatly  contracted,  would,  even  under 
Napoleon’s  circumstances,  be  considered  one  of  the  measures 
best  calculated  to  propitiate  a long-trammelled  population. 
Bur,  in  fact,  the  thing  assumed  no  such  character  ; the 
spectacle  seemed  indeed  of  the  utmost  value  to  the  Parisians, 
but  the  constitution  of  little,  if  any.  They  had  never  pos- 
sessed any  regular  constitution,  and  I really  think  had  no 
settled  or  digested  ideas  upon  the  subject. 

The  extraordinary  splendour  of  the  preparations  for  this 
ceremony,  and  the  admixture  of  civil  and  military  pomp, 
were  to  me  very  interesting.  The  temporary  buildings 
thrown  up  for  the  occasion  might,  it  is  true,  be  denominated 
tawdry , yet,  strangely  enough,  there  is  no  other  people 
except  the  French  who  can  deck  out  such  gewgaws  with 
anything  like  corresponding  taste  and  effect. 

The  scene  was  on  an  immense  scale.  In  an  inconceivably 
short  time,  and  almost  as  if  by  the  effect  of  magic,  a sort  of 
amphitheatre  was  constructed  in  front  of  the  Hotel  des 
Invalides,  and  which  was  of  magnitude  sufficient  to  contain 
about  15,000  persons.  In  the  centre  arose  an  altar  similar 
to  those  provided  in  ancient  sacrifices  for  the  sacred  fire  to 
descend  upon  ; and  at  this  altar  Cardinal  Cambaceres  pre- 


PROMULGATION  OF  THE  CONSTITUTION.  423 

sided.  A great  proportion  of  the  front  of  the  hospital  was 
covered  with  crimson  velvet,  and  the  imperial  throne  was 
placed  on  the  platform  of  the  first  storey,  facing  the  altar  ; 
around  it  were  seats  for  the  princes.  I was  not  present  at 
the  actual  ceremony  within  the  great  temporary  edifice. 

I had  on  the  occasion  of  the  inauguration,  as  already 
stated,  fully  satisfied  myself  as  to  the  demeanour  both  of  the 
emperor  and  the  senators  ; but  I had  not  seen  the  grand 
cortege  which  had  preceded,  and  on  this  occasion,  as  it  was 
to  be  much  more  of  a military  procession,  and  the  emperor’s 
last  public  appearance  before  he  joined  the  army  to  decide 
the  fate  of  Europe,  I was  desirous  of  witnessing  the  spectacle, 
and  accordingly  engaged  a window  on  the  quay  for  my 
family,  in  a house  close  to  the  Pont  de  Jena,  over  which  the 
whole  must  pass  on  its  way  to  the  Hotel  des  Xnvalides.  We 
had  thence  a close  and  full  view  of  the  Champ  de  Mars, 
of  the  Amphitheatre,  and  of  the  artificial  mount  whence 
the  Constitution  was  to  be  proclaimed  by  the  emperor  in 
person  to  the  people. 

Napoleon  well  knew  the  great  importance  of  leaving  a 
strong  impression  on  the  public  feeling.  His  posting  from 
the  coast  to  the  Tuilleries  without  interruption  was  the  most 
extraordinary  event  in  history,  ancient  or  modern  ; but  it 
was  not  immediately  followed  up  by  any  unusual  circum- 
stance, or  any  very  splendid  spectacle,  to  rouse  or  gratify 
Parisian  volatility.  The  retired  official  life  of  the  emperor, 
after  his  return,  necessarily  absorbed  in  business  night  and 
day,  had  altogether  excited  little  or  no  stir,  and  still  less 
expression  of  public  feeling  in  the  metropolis.  In  fact, 
the  Parisians  did  not  seem  to  feel  so  much  interest  about 
the  state  of  affairs  as  they  would  have  done  upon  the  most 
unimportant  occurrences  ; they  made  light  of  everything 
except  their  pleasure , which  always  was  and  always  will  be 
the  god  of  Paris  ; and  never  was  any  deity  more  universally 
and  devoutly  worshipped  ! The  king’s  flight  to  Ghent  was 


424  Barrington’s  recollections. 

then  as  little  thought  of  or  regarded  as  if  he  had  gone  to  St. 
Cloud,  and  Napoleon’s  arrival  made  as  little  stir  as  Louis’s 
departure.  But  the  emperor  was  now  about  to  go  to  battle, 
was  well  aware  of  the  treachery  which  surrounded  him, 
and  that  on  his  success  or  discomfiture  depended  its 
explosion.  He  determined,  therefore,  as  he  had  not  time 
to  counteract,  to  dissemble,  and  I have  no  doubt  that  to  this 
circumstance  alone  Fouche  knew  he  owed  his  existence. 
The  month  preceding  Napoleon's  departure  from  Paris  he 
became  thoroughly  acquainted  with  the  intrigues  of  his 
minister,  and  I firmly  believe  that  each  was  determined 
on  the  destruction  of  the  other  upon  the  first  feasible  oppor- 
tunity, as  the  only  means  of  securing  himself.  I do  believe 
that  Fouche  would  not  have  survived  Bonaparte’s  successful 
return  more  than  four-and-twenty  hours,  and  I equally 
believe  that  Fouche  had  actually  meditated  and  made  some 
progress  in  providing  for  Napoleon’s  assassination.  I made 
up  my  mind  on  these  points,  not  from  any  direct  information, 
but  from  a process  yclept  by  our  great  grandmothers  spelling 
and  putting  together  ; and  if  the  reader  will  be  good  enough 
to  bear  in  mind  what  I told  him  respecting  the  society* at 
Dr.  Marshall’s,  as  well  as  the  intelligence  acquired  by  my 
servant  Thevenot,  he  will  not  be  at  a loss  to  understand 
how  I got  at  my  materials. 

In  truth,  the  army  alone,  I suspect,  was  sincerely  attached 
to  the  reinstated  monarch.  By  his  soldiers  Bonaparte  was 
in  every  part  of  his  career  almost  worshipped.  They 
seemed  to  regard  him  rather  as  a demigod,  and  nobody 
could  be  deceived  as  to  their  entire  devotion  to  the  divinity 
which  they  had  set  up.  But  it  was  not  so  with  the  civil  ranks 
of  Paris. 

I should  tire  myself  and  my  readers  were  I to  describe  the 
almost  boyish  anxiety  which  I felt  when  the  firing  of  the 
ordnance  announced  the  first  movement  of  the  emperor 
from  the  Tuilleries  to  the  Champ  de  Mars.  I shall  leave 


PROMULGATION  OF  THE  CONSTITUTION.  425 

to  the  supposition  of  the  reader  the  impression  I received 
from  the  passing  of  the  cortege.  Let  him  picture  to  himself 
an  immense  army  pouring  along  the  spacious  quays  of  Paris, 
in  battalions  and  squadrons — the  enthusiasm  of  the  soldiers, 
the  bright  cuirasses,  the  multitude  of  waving  plumes,  the 
magnificence  of  the  marshals  and  their  staff — these,  set  off 
by  the  glowing  sun,  combined  to  implant  in  the  mind  of  a 
person  unaccustomed  to  such  a sight  the  idea  of  almost 
certain  victory. 

What  struck  me  most  was  the  appearance  of  a splendid 
but  not  numerous  regiment  in  the  costume  of  Turkish 
cavalry,  mounted  upon  small  barbs  and  dashingly  accoutred. 
Their  officers  rode  for  the  most  part  piebald  horses,  many 
of  which  were  caparisoned  with  breast  armour  and  decked 
with  gaudy  trappings.  The  uniform  of  the  men  was  scarlet, 
with  green  Cossack  trousers,  immense  turbans,  and  high 
plumes  of  feathers  ; the  whole  ornamented  and  laced  in  as 
splendid  and  glittering  a style  as  ingenuity  could  dictate  ; 
their  stirrups  were  foot-boards,  and  they  had  very  crooked 
sabres  and  long  lances.  I believe  these  men  were  accoutred 
en  Mameluck  ; and  I mention  them  the  more  particularly 
because  I believe  they  did  not  go  to  Waterloo — at  least  not 
in  that  uniform.  In  calling  to  my  recollection  this  superb 
scene,  the  hundred  bands  of  martial  music  seem  even  at  this 
moment  to  strike  my  ear.  It  seemed  as  if  every  instrument 
in  Paris  was  in  requisition  ! The  trumpets  and  kettle- 
drums of  the  gaudy  heralds,  the  deep  sackbuts,  the  crashing 
cymbals,  and  the  loud  gongs  of  the  splendid  Mamelukes, 
bewildered  both  the  ear  and  the  imagination.  At  first  they 
astonished,  then  gratified,  and  at  length  fatigued  me.  About 
the  centre  of  this  procession  appeared  its  principal  object, 
who,  had  he  lived  in  times  of  less  fermentation,  would,  in 
my  opinion,  have  been  a still  greater  statesman  than  he  was 
a warrior.  It  is  indisputable  that  it  was  Bonaparte  who 
definitely  freed  the  entire  continent  of  Europe  from  that 


426 


Barrington’s  recollections. 


democratic  mania,  of  all  other  tyrannies  the  most  cruel, 
savage,  and  unrelenting,  and  which  was  still  in  full  though 
less  rapid  progress  when  he,  by  placing  the  diadem  of 
France  on  his  own  brow,  restored  the  principle  of  monarchy 
to  its  vigour,  and  at  one  blow  overwhelmed  the  many- 
headed monster  of  revolution. 

It  has  been  the  fashion  in  England  to  term  Napoleon  a 
“ Corsican  usurper.”  We  should  have  recollected  Paoli 
before  we  reproached  him  for  being  a Corsican,  and  we 
should  have  recurred  to  our  own  annals  before  we  called 
him  a usurper.  He  mounted  a throne  which  had  long  been 
vacant  ; the  decapitation  of  Louis,  in  which  he  could  have 
had  no  concern,  had  completely  overwhelmed  the  dynasty 
of  Bourbon,  and  Napoleon  in  a day  re-established  that 
monarchial  form  of  government  which  we  had  with  so 
much  expense  of  blood  and  treasure  been  for  many  years 
unsuccessfully  attempting  to  restore.  I cannot  avoid  repeat- 
ing this  pointed  example  of  our  own  inconsistency . We 
actually  made  peace  and  concluded  treaties  with  Napoleon 
Bonaparte  when  he  was  acting  as  a republican,  the  very 
species  of  government  against  which  we  had  so  long  com- 
bated, and  we  refused  to  listen  to  his  most  pacific  demon- 
strations when  he  became  a monarch.* 

This  has,  I confess,  been  a sad  digression  ; but  when  I 
call  to  mind  that  last  scene  of  Bonaparte’s  splendour,  I 
cannot  altogether  separate  from  it  the  prior  portion  of 
his  history  and  that  of  Europe.  I have  mentioned  that 
about  the  centre  of  the  cortege  the  emperor  and  his  court 
appeared.  It  was  the  custom  in  France  for  every  person  of 
a certain  rank  to  keep  a sort  of  state-coach  gaudily  gilded 

* Another  observation  I cannot  but  make  on  this  subject.  As  events 
have  turned  out,  Napoleon  only  sat  down  on  the  throne  of  France  to 
keep  it  for  the  Bourbons.  Had  he  remained  a republican,  as  when  he 
acknowledged  and  made  peace  with  him,  the  names  of  the  whole 
family  of  Louis  Capet  would  still  have  appeared  on  the  pension  list  of 
England. 


PROMULGATION  OF  THE  CONSTITUTION.  427 

and  painted,  and,  in  addition  to  the  footman,  a chasseur  to 
mount  behind,  dressed  en  grande  toilette , with  huge  mous- 
taches, immense  feathers  in  his  hat,  and  a large  sabre  depend- 
ing from  a broad-laced  belt,  which  crossed  his  shoulder — he 
was  generally  a muscular,  fine-looking  man,  and  always 
indicated  rank  and  affluence  in  his  master.  Napoleon  liked 
this  state  to  be  preserved  by  all  his  ministers,  etc.  He 
obliged  every  man  in  office  to  appear  at  court  and  in  public 
according  to  the  station  he  held  ; and  instances  were  not 
wanting  where  the  emperor,  having  discovered  that  an  officer 
of  rank  had  not  pecuniary  means  to  purchase  a coach  of 
ceremony,  had  made  him  a present  of  a very  fine  one.  He 
repeatedly  paid  the  debts  of  several  of  his  marshals  and 
generals,  when  he  thought  their  incomes  somewhat  inade- 
quate ; and  a case  has  been  mentioned  where  a high  officer 
of  his  household  had  not  money  to  purchase  jewels  for  his 
wife,  of  Napoleon  ordering  a set  to  be  presented  to  her,  with 
an  injunction  to  wear  them  at  court. 

On  this  day  he  commanded  the  twelve  mayors  of  Paris  to 
appear  in  their  carriages  of  ceremony  ; and,  to  do  them 
justice,  they  were  gilt  and  caparisoned  as  finely  as  time 
and  circumstances  could  admit.  Bonaparte  himself  sat 
alone  in  a state  coach  with  glass  all  round  it,  his  feathers 
bowed  deeply  over  his  face,  and  consequently  little  more 
than  the  lower  parts  of  it  were  quite  uncovered.  Whoever 
has  marked  the  countenance  of  Napoleon  must  admit  it  to 
have  been  one  of  the  most  expressive  ever  created.  When  I 
say  this,  I beg  to  be  understood  as  distinguishing  it  entirely 
from  what  is  generally  called  an  expressive  countenance — 
namely,  one  involuntarily  and  candidly  proclaiming  the 
feelings  whereby  its  proprietor  is  actuated  ; the  smile  or  the 
look  of  scorn,  the  blush  or  the  tear,  serving  not  unfrequently 
to  communicate  matters  which  the  lips  would  have  kept 
secret.  Though  that  species  of  expressive  countenance  may 
be  commonly  admired,  it  is  often  inconvenient , and  would  be 


428  BARRINGTON’S  RECOLLECTIONS. 

perfectly  unbefitting  a king,  a courtier,  a gambler,  an  ambas- 
sador, or,  in  short,  a man  in  any  station  of  life  which  renders 
it  incumbent  on  him  to  keep  his  countenance.  The  lower  por- 
tion of  Bonaparte’s  face  (as  I have  mentioned  in  speaking  of 
my  first  glance  at  it)  was  the  finest  I think  I ever  saw,  and 
peculiarly  calculated  to  set  the  feelings  of  others  on  specu- 
lation without  giving  any  decided  intimation  of  his  own. 
On  the  day  of  the  promulgation  it  occurred  to  me,  and  to 
my  family  likewise,  as  we  saw  him  pass  slowly  under  our 
window,  that  the  unparalleled  splendour  of  the  scene 
failed  in  arousing  him  from  that  deep  dejection  which  had 
apparently  seized  him  ever  since  his  return  to  Paris,  and 
which  doubtless  arose  from  a consciousness  of  his  critical 
situation  and  the  hollow  ground  whereon  he  trod.  There 
was  ill-timed  languor  in  his  general  look  ; he  smiled  not, 
and  took  but  little  notice  of  any  surrounding  object.  He 
appeared,  in  fact,  loaded  with  some  presentiment,  confined, 
however,  to  himself  ; for  of  all  possible  events  his  approach- 
ing and  sudden  fate  was  last,  I believe,  in  the  contemplation 
of  any  person  amongst  that  prodigious  assembly.  I appre- 
hend the  intelligence  of  Murat’s  defeat  in  Italy  had  reached 
him  about  that  time. 

Two  marshals  rode  on  each  side  of  Napoleon’s  coach,  and 
his  three  brothers  occupied  the  next.  I thought  these  men 
all  appeared  cheerful — at  any  rate,  no  evil  presentiments  were 
visible  in  their  countenances.  After  the  emperor  had  passed 
my  interest  diminished.  I was  absorbed  by  reflection,  and 
my  mind  was  painfully  diverted  to  the  probable  result  of  the 
impending  contest,  which  would  most  likely  plunge  into  a 
gory  and  crowded  grave  thousands  of  the  gay  and  sparkling 
warriors  who,  full  of  the  principle  of  life  and  activity,  had 
that  moment  passed  before  me. 

The  crowds  in  the  Champ  de  Mars,  the  firing  of  the  artil- 
lery, the  spirited  bustle  of  the  entire  scene,  and  the  return 
of  the  same  cortege  after  the  Constitution  had  been  pro- 


PROMULGATION  OF  THE  CONSTITUTION.  429 

claimed,  left  me  in  a state  of  absolute  languor,  every  fresh 
idea  supplanting  its  predecessor  in  my  mind  ; and  when  I 
returned  to  my  hotel  it  required  more  than  a single  bottle  of 
Chateau  Margot  to  restore  the  serenity  of  my  over-excited 
nerves. 

The  rejoicings  which  followed  the  promulgation  of  the 
Constitution  were  in  a style  of  which  I had  no  previous  con- 
ception. I have  already  observed,  and  every  person  whc 
has  been  much  on  the  Continent  will  bear  me  out  in  the 
remark,  that  no  people  are  so  very  adroit  at  embellishment 
as  the  French.  Our  carpenters,  paper-hangers,  etc.,  know 
no  more  about  Parisian  embellishments  than  our  plain  cooks 
do  of  the  hundred  and  twenty-six  modes  of  dressing  a fresh 
egg,  whereof  every  French  cuisinier  is  perfectly  master. 

Many  temporary  stands  had  been  erected  in  the  Champs 
d’Elysee,  whence  to  toss  out  all  species  of  provisions  to  the 
populace.  Hams,  turkeys,  sausages,  etc.,  were  to  be  had  in 
abundance  by  scrambling  for  them.  Twenty  fountains  of 
wine  were  set  playing  into  the  jars,  cups,  and  pails  of  all  who 
chose  to  adventure  getting  near  them.  A number  of  tem- 
porary theatres  were  constructed,  and  games  started  through- 
out the  green.  Quadrilles  and  waltzes  were  practised  every- 
where around  ; all  species  of  music,  singing,  juggling — in 
fine,  everything  that  could  stamp  the  period  of  the  emperor’s 
departure  on  the  minds  of  the  people  w^re  ordered  to  be  put 
in  requisition  ; and  a scene  of  enjoyment  ensued  which,  not- 
withstanding the  bustle  necessarily  attendant,  was  conducted 
with  the  politeness  and  decorum  of  a drawing-room — with 
much  more,  indeed,  than  prevails  at  most  of  our  public 
assemblies.  No  pickpockets  were  heard  of  ; no  disputes  of 
any  description  arose  ; the  very  lowest  orders  of  the  French 
canaille  appear  on  such  occasions  cleanly  dressed,  and  their 
very  nature  renders  them  polite  and  courteous  to  each  other. 
They  make  way  with  respect  for  any  woman,  even  from  a 
duchess  to  a beggar-woman. 


Barrington’s  recollections. 


43o 

Stretching  across  the  whole  of  the  Place  Louis  Quinze 
was  a transparent  painting  of  Napoleon’s  return  from  Elba, 
the  mimic  ship  being  of  equal  dimensions  with  the  real  one. 
Napoleon  appeared  on  the  deck,  and  the  entire  effect  was 
most  impressive. 

The  rejoicings  concluded  with  a display  of  fireworks — a 
species  of  entertainment,  by-the-bye,  wherein  I never  de- 
lighted. It  commenced  with  a flight  of  five  thousand  rockets 
of  various  colours,  and  was  terminated  by  the  ascent  of  a 
balloon  loaded  with  every  species  of  firework,  which  burst- 
ing high  in  the  air,  illuminated  with  overpowering  blaze  the 
whole  atmosphere.  By  midnight  all,  like  an  “ unsubstantial 
pageant,”  had  faded,  leaving  the  ill-starred  emperor  to 
pursue  his  route  to  partial  victory,  final  defeat,  and  ruin.* 

One  remark  in  conclusion.  It  was  really  extraordinary  to 
witness  the  political  apathy  wherein  the  entire  population, 
save  the  military,  was  bound.  Scarce  a single  expression  or 
indication  of  party  feeling  escaped  in  any  direction.  All 
seemed  bent  on  pleasure,  and  on  pleasure  alone,  careless 

* I have  read  with  pleasure  many  parts  of  Napoleon's  Second  Reign , 
by  Mr.  Hobhouse.  Though  I do  not  coincide  with  that  gentlemen  in 
all  his  views  of  the  subject  (differing  from  him  in  toto  as  to  some),  I 
admit  the  justice  of  a great  portion  of  his  observations,  and  consider  the 
work,  on  the  whole,  as  a very  clever  performance.  In  several  matters 
of  description  and  anecdote  he  has  anticipated  me,  and  I really  think 
has  treated  them  with  as  much  accuracy  and  in  a much  more  com- 
prehensive manner  than  I should  or  perhaps  could  have  done.  Mine, 
in  fact,  is  but  a sketch  ; his,  a history.  In  some  matters  of  fact  he 
appears  to  have  been  imperfectly  informed  ; but  they  are  not  errors  of 
a sufficiently  important  nature  to  involve  any  charge  of  general 
inaccuracy.  I myself  kept  an  ample  diary  of  the  events  of  the  Hundred 
Days  (of  so  much  of  them  at  least  as  I spent  in  Paris),  and  until  the  re- 
entry of  Louis,  and  in  fact,  subsequently,  though  less  regularly.  From 
these  documents  I have  extracted  what  I now  publish,  but  the  whole 
may  perhaps  hereafter  appear  in  its  original  shape. 

I cannot  but  express  my  regret  that  Mr.  Hobhouse  did  not  remain  in 
Paris  until  after  Napoleon’s  return  from  Belgium,  when  there  was  a far 
wider  and  fairer  field  presented  for  the  exercise  of  his  pen.  I really  con  - 
ceive  it  will  be  a loss  to  literature  if  he  does  not  recur  to  that  period 
(materials  cannot  be  wanting),  take  up  his  own  work  where  he  finished, 
and  continue  it  until  the  evacuation  of  Paris  by  the  allied  forces.  The 
events  of  that  interval  are  richly  worth  recording,  and  it  would  fill  up 
what  is  as  yet  nearly  a blank  in  the  history  of  Europe. 


PROMULGATION  OF  THE  CONSTITUTION.  43 1 

whether  the  opportunity  for  its  indulgence  were  afforded 
them  by  Napoleon  or  Louis — by  preparations  for  peace  or 
war — by  the  establishment  of  despotism  or  liberty.  They 
were,  I sincerely  believe,  absolutely  weary  of  politics,  and 
inclined  to  view  any  suggestion  of  that  nature  with  emotions 
of  bitterness.  At  all  times,  indeed,  the  Parisians  prefer 
pleasure  to  serious  speculation  ; and  the  wisest  king  of 
France  will  ever  be  that  one  who  contrives  to  keep  his  good 
citizens  “ constantly  amused 


432 


BARRINGTON’S  RECOLLECTIONS. 


CHAPTER  XLVIII. 

LAST  DAYS  OF  THE  IMPERIAL  GOVERNMENT. 

The  emperor  having  left  Paris  to  take  command  of  the  army 
in  Belgium,  the  garrison  left  in  that  city  was  necessarily  very 
inconsiderable.  It  was  the  universal  belief  that  the  allies 
would  be  surprised  by  a simultaneous  attack,  and  the  event 
warranted  this  supposition.  The  result  was  a double  defeat 
of  Blucher,  the  separation  of  the  Prussian  and  British  armies, 
the  retreat  of  Lord  Wellington  upon  Brussels,  the  march  of 
Grouchy  upon  that  city,  and  the  advance  of  Napoleon.  The 
impatience  of  the  Parisians  for  news  may  be  easily  conceived, 
nor  were  they  kept  long  in  suspense.  Meanwhile  there  ran 
through  the  whole  mass  of  society  a suspicion  that  treachery 
was  on  foot,  but  nobody  could  guess  in  what  shape  it  would 
explode.  The  assassination  of  Napoleon  was  certainly  re- 
garded as  a thing  in  contemplation,  and  the  disaffection  of 
sundry  general  officers  publicly  discussed  at  the  Palais  Royal, 
but  no  names  were  mentioned  except  Fouche’s. 

On  Sunday,  the  18th  of  June,  at  daybreak,  I was  roused 
by  the  noise  of  artillery.  I arose  and  instantly  sallied  out  to 
inquire  the  cause  ; nobody  could  at  the  moment  inform  me  ; 
but  it  was  soon  announced  that  it  was  public  rejoicing  on 
account  of  a great  victory  gained  by  Napoleon  over  the 
Prussians,  commanded  by  Blucher,  and  the  English  by  the 
Duke  of  Wellington.  That  the  allies  had  been  partly  sur- 
prised, and  were  in  rapid  retreat,  followed  by  the  emperor 
and  flanked  by  Grouchy  ; that  a lancer  had  arrived  as  courier 
and  given  many  details,  one  of  which  was  that  our  Light 
Dragoons,  under  Lord  Anglesea,  had  been  completely 
destroyed. 

I immediately  determined  to  quit  Paris  for  the  day.  It 


LAST  DAYS  OF  THE  IMPERIAL  GOVERNMENT. 


433 


was  Sunday  ; everybody  was  a-foot,  the  drums  were  beating 
in  all  directions,  and  it  was  impossible  to  say  how  the  canaille 
might,  in  exultation  at  the  victory,  be  disposed  to  act  by  the 
English  in  Paris.  We,  therefore,  set  out  early  and  break- 
fasted at  St.  Cloud.  The  report  of  the  victory  had  reached 
that  village,  but  I perceived  no  indication  of  any  great  feeling 
on  the  subject.  We  adjourned  to  Bagatelle,  in  the  very 
pretty  gardens  of  which  we  sauntered  about  till  dinner  time. 

This  victory  did  not  surprise  me  ; for  when  I saw  the 
magnificent  array  of  troops  on  the  occasion  of  the  Promulga- 
tion, I had  adopted  the  unmilitary  idea  that  they  mast  be 
invincible.  As  yet  we  had  heard  no  certain  particulars. 
About  eleven  o’clock,  however,  printed  bulletins  were 
liberally  distributed,  announcing  an  unexpected  attack  on  the 
Prussian  and  English  armies  with  the  purpose  of  dividing 
them,  which  purpose  was  stated  to  be  fully  accomplished, 
the  Duke  of  Brunswick  killed,  the  Prince  of  Orange  wounded, 
two  Scotch  regiments  broken  and  sabred,  Lord  Wellington 
in  full  retreat,  Blucher’s  army  absolutely  ruined,  and  the 
emperor  in  full  march  for  Brussels,  where  the  Belgian  army 
would  join  the  French,  and  march  unitedly  for  Berlin. 
The  day  was  rather  drizzling  ; we  took  shelter  in  the  grotto, 
and  were  there  joined  by  some  Parisian  shopkeeper  and  his 
family,  who  had  come  out  from  the  capital  for  their  recrea- 
tion. This  man  told  us  a hundred  incidents  which  were 
circulated  in  Paris  with  relation  to  the  battle.  Among 
other  things,  it  was  said,  that  if  the  emperor’s  generals 
did  their  duty,  the  campaign  might  be  already  considered 
over,  since  every  man  in  France  and  Belgium  would  rise 
in  favour  of  the  emperor.  He  told  us  news  had  arrived 
that  the  Austrians  were  to  be  neutral,  and  that  the  Russians 
durst  advance  no  farther,  that  the  King  of  Prussia  would  be 
dethroned,  and  that  it  was  generally  believed  Lord  Welling- 
ton would  either  be  dead  or  in  the  Castle  of  Vincennes  by 
Wednesday  morning  ! This  budget  of  intelligence  our 

(D  311)* 


IF 


434 


Barrington’s  recollections. 


informant  communicated  himself  in  a very  neutral  way, 
and  without  betraying  the  slightest  symptom  either  of 
gratification  or  the  reverse  ; and  as  it  was  impossible 
to  doubt  the  main  point,  the  defeat,  I really  began  to  think  all 
was  lost,  and  that  it  was  high  time  to  consider  how  we  should 
get  out  of  France  forthwith,  more  particularly  as  the  em- 
peror’s absence  from  Paris  would,  by  leaving  it  at  the  mercy 
of  the  populace,  render  that  city  no  longer  a secure  residence 
for  the  subjects  of  a hostile  kingdom.  How  singular  was  the 
fact  that,  at  the  very  moment  I was  receiving  this  news,  at 
the  very  instant  when  I conceived  Napoleon  again  the 
conqueror  of  the  world,  and  the  rapidity  of  his  success  as 
only  supplementary  to  the  rapidity  of  his  previous  return  and 
a prelude  to  fresh  achievements,  that  bloody  and  decisive 
conflict  was  actually  at  its  height,  which  had  been  decreed 
by  Providence  to  terminate  Napoleon’s  political  existence  ! 
What  an  embarrassing  problem  to  the  mind  of  a casuist  must 
a speculation  be  as  to  the  probable  results  at  this  day  of  a 
different  dispensation  ! 

Our  minds  were  now  made  up  to  quit  Paris  on  the  follow- 
ing Thursday  ; and  as  the  securest  course  to  get  down  to  St. 
Maloes,  and  thence  to  Jersey,  or  some  of  the  adjacent 
islands  ; and  without  mentioning  our  intention,  I determined 
to  make  every  preparation  connected  with  the  use  of  the 
sauf  conduit  which  I had  procured  on  my  first  arrival  in 
Paris.  But  fate  decreed  otherwise.  Napoleon’s  destiny 
had  been  meantime  decided,  and  my  flight  became  un- 
necessary. 

On  returning  to  Paris  we  found  everything  quiet.  On 
that  very  Sunday  night  my  servant,  the  Henry  Thevenot, 
told  me  that  he  had  heard  the  French  had  got  entangled  in 
a forest  and  met  a repulse.  He  said  he  had  been  told  this 
at  a public  house  in  Rue  Mont  Blanc. 

I feared  the  man.  I suspected  him  to  be  on  the  espion- 
age establishment,  and,  therefore,  told  him  to  say  no  more  to 


LAST  DAYS  OF  THE  IMPERIAL  GOVERNMENT.  435 

me  about  the  war,  and  that  I wished  much  to  be  in  England. 

About  nine  on  Thursday  morning,  as  soon  as  I rose, 
Thevenot  again  informed  me,  with  a countenance  which  gave 
no  indication  of  his  own  sent:ments,  that  the  French  were 
totally  defeated , that  the  emperor  had  returned  to  Paris,  and 
that  the  English  were  in  full  march  to  the  capital. 

I almost  dreaded  lest  the  language  of  my  servant  might  in 
some  way  implicate  me,  and  I now  chid  him  for  telling  me 
so  great  a falsehood. 

“ It  is  true,”  returned  he. 

Still  I could  not  believe  it  ; and  I gave  him  notice,  on  the 
spot,  to  quit  my  service.  He  received  this  intimation  with 
much  seeming  indifference,  and  his  whole  deportment  im- 
pressed me  with  suspicion.  I went  immediately,  therefore, 
to  Messrs.  Lafitte,  my  bankers,  and  the  first  person  I saw 
was  my  friend  Mr.  Phillips,  very  busily  employed  at  his  desk 
in  the  outside  room. 

“ Do  you  know,  Phillips,”  said  I,  “ that  I have  been 
obliged  to  turn  off  my  servant  for  spreading  a report  that  the 
French  are  beaten  and  the  emperor  returned  ? ” 

Phillips,  without  withdrawing  his  eyes  from  what  he  was 
engaged  on,  calmly  and  concisely  replied,  “ It  is  true 
enough.” 

“ Impossible  ! ” exclaimed  I. 

“ Quite  possible,”  returned  this  man  of  few  words. 

“ Where  is  Napoleon  ? ” said  I. 

“ In  the  Palais  de  Bourbon  Elysee,”  said  he. 

I saw  it  was  vain  to  expect  further  communication  from 
Mr.  Phillips,  and  I went  into  an  inner  chamber  to  Mr. 
Clement,  who  seemed,  however,  more  taciturn  than  the 
other. 

Being  most  anxious  to  learn  all  the  facts,  I proceeded  to 
the  Palais  d’Elysee,  my  scepticism  having  meanwhile  under- 
gone great  diminution  from  seeing  an  immense  number  of 
splendid  equipages  darting  through  the  streets,  filled  with 


436 


Barrington’s  recollections. 


full-dressed  men,  plentifully  adorned  with  stars  and  orders. 
When  I got  to  the  palace  I found  the  court  full  of  carriages 
and  a large  body  of  the  National  Guard  under  arms,  yet  I 
could  scarcely  believe  my  eyes,  but  I soon  learned  the 
principal  fact  from  a hundred  mouths  and  with  a thousand 
different  details  ; my  informants  agreeing  only  on  one  point, 
namely,  that  the  army  was  defeated  by  treachery , and  that 
the  emperor  had  returned  to  Paris  in  quest  of  new  materiel. 
Groups  and  crowds  were  collecting  everywhere,  and  confu- 
sion reigned  triumphant. 

Being  somewhat  rudely  driven  out  of  the  courtyard,  I now 
went  round  to  the  Champs  d’Elysee,  at  the  rear  of  the  palace. 
Sentinels,  belonging  to  Napoleon’s  guard,  were  by  this  time 
posted  outside  the  long  terrace  that  skirts  the  garden.  They 
would  permit  no  person  to  approach  close,  but  I was  near 
enough  to  discern  Napoleon  walking  deliberately  backwards 
and  forwards  on  that  terrace,  in  easy  conversation  with  two 
persons,  whom  I conceived  to  be  his  uncle,  Cardinal  Fesch, 
and  Count  Bertrand,  and  I afterwards  heard  that  I wras 
right.  The  emperor  wore  a short  blue  coat  and  a small 
three-cocked  hat,  and  held  his  hands  behind  his  back  seem- 
ingly in  a most  tranquil  mood.  Nobody  could  in  fact  sup- 
pose he  was  in  any  agitation  whatever,  and  the  cardinal 
appeared  much  more  earnest  in  the  conversation  than 
himself.  I stood  there  about  fifteen  minutes,  when  the 
sentries  ordered  us  off;  and  as  I obeyed,  I saw^  Napoleon 
walk  up  towards  the  palace. 

I never  saw  the  Emperor  of  the  French  after  that  day, 
wdiich  was,  in  fact,  the  last  of  his  reign.  It  ought  to  have 
been  the  last  day  of  his  existence,  or  the  first  of  some  new 
series  of  achievements  ; but  fate  had  crushed  the  man,  and 
he  could  rouse  himself  no  more.  Though,  I think,  he  could  I 
count  but  scantily  on  the  fidelity  of  the  National  Guards,  yet 
he  was  in  possession  of  Montmartre,  and,  as  the  event 
proved,  another  and  a very  powerful  army  might  soon  have 


LAST  DAYS  OF  THE  IMPERIAL  GOVERNMENT.  437 


been  gathered  about  him.  Perhaps,  too,  had  Bonaparte 
rallied  in  good  earnest , he  might  have  succeeded  in  working 
even  on  the  very  pride  of  his  former  subjects  to  free  the  soil 
of  the  grande  nation  from  foreign  invasion. 

Madame  Le  Jeune,  the  mistress  of  the  hotel  wherein  we 
resided,  was  sister  to  General  Le  Jeune,  the  admirable 
painter  who  executed  those  noble  pieces  of  the  battles  of 
Jena  and  Austerlitz,  which  had  been  in  the  outside  room  at 
the  gallery  of  the  Tuilleries.  I am  no  judge  of  painting,  but 
I think  everything  he  did,  and  his  pieces  were  numerous, 
possessed  great  effect.  Through  him,  until  the  siege  ter- 
minated by  the  surrender  of  Paris,  we  learned  all  that  was 
going  on  amongst  the  French,  and  through  Dr.  Marshall  and 
Colonel  Macirone  I daily  became  acquainted  with  the  objects 
of  the  English,  as  I verily  believe  those  two  gentlemen  were 
at  the  same  time  in  correspondence  with  both  the  British 
and  French  authorities. 

After  Napoleon  had  been  a few  days  making  faint  and 
fruitless  endeavours  to  induce  the  deputies  to  grant  him  the 
materiel  and  aid  him  in  a new  armament,  their  coldness  to 
himself  individually  became  too  obvious  to  be  misconstrued  ; 
fortune  had,  in  fact,  forsaken  Napoleon,  and  friends  too  often 
follow  fortune  ; and  it  soon  became  notorious  that  Fouche 
had  every  disposition  to  seal  his  master’s  destruction.  The 
emperor  had,  however,  still  many  true  and  faithful  friends, 
many  ardent  partisans  on  whose  fidelity  he  might  rely.  He 
had  an  army  which  could  not  be  estranged,  which  no  mis- 
fortune could  divert  from  him.  But  his  enemies,  including 
the  timid  and  the  neutral  among  the  deputies,  appeared  to 
me  decidedly  to  outnumber  those  who  would  have  gone  far 
in  ensuring  his  reinstatement.  Tranquillity  seemed  to  be 
the  general  wish,  and  the  re-equipment  of  Napoleon  would 
have  rendered  it  unattainable. 

Nevertheless,  the  deputies  proceeded  calmly  on  their 
business,  and  events  every  day  assumed  a more  extraordinary 


438 


B ARRINGTON JS  RECOLLECTIONS. 


appearance.  The  interval  between  the  emperor’s  return 
from  Waterloo  and  his  final  abdication,  between  his  depar- 
ture for  Malmaison  and  the  siege  of  Paris,  was  of  the  most 
interesting  and  important  nature  ; and  so  great  was  my 
curiosity  to  be  aware  of  passing  events,  that  I am  conscious 
I went  much  farther  lengths  than  prudence  would  have 
warranted. 

During  the  debates  in  the  deputies  after  Napoleon’s  return 
I was  almost  daily  present.  I met  a gentleman  who  procured 
me  a free  admission,  and  through  whom  I became  acquainted 
by  name  with  most  and  personally  with  many  of  the  most 
celebrated  characters,  not  only  of  the  current  time,  but  also 
who  had  flourished  during  the  different  stages  of  the  revolu- 
tion. I was  particularly  made  known  to  Garat,  who  had 
been  minister  of  justice  at  the  time  Louis  XVI.  was  beheaded, 
and  had  read  to  him  his  sentence  and  conducted  him  to  the 
scaffold.  Although  he  had  not  voted  for  the  king’s  death, 
he  durst  not  refuse  to  execute  his  official  functions  ; his 
attendance,  therefore,  could  not  be  considered  as  voluntary. 
He  was  at  this  time  a member  of  the  deputies.  His  person 
would  well  answer  the  idea  of  a small,  slight,  sharp-looking, 
lame  tailor  ; but  his  conversation  was  acute,  rational,  and 
temperate.  He  regarded  Napoleon  as  lost  beyond  all 
redemption  ; nor  did  he  express  any  great  regret  hereat, 
seeming  to  me  a man  of  much  mental  reservation.  I suspect 
he  had  been  too  much  of  a genuine  republican,  and  of  too 
democratic  and  liberal  a policy,  ever  to  have  been  any  great  • 
admirer  even  of  the  most  splendid  of  imperators.  I think 
he  was  sent  out  of  Paris  on  the  king’s  restoration. 

My  friend  having  introduced  me  to  the  librarian  of  the 
Chamber  of  Deputies,  I was  suffered  to  sit  in  the  ante-room, 
or  library,  whenever  I chose,  and  had  consequently  a full 
opportunity  of  seeing  the  ingress  and  egress  of  the  deputies, 
who  frequently  formed  small  groups  in  the  ante-room,  and 
entered  into  earnest  although  brief  conferences.  My  ready 


LAST  DAYS  OF  THE  IMPERIAL  GOVERNMENT. 


439 


access  to  the  gallery  of  the  House  itself  enabled  me  likewise 
to  know  the  successive  objects  of  their  anxious  solicitude. 

The  librarian  was  particularly  obliging,  and  suffered  me  to 
see  and  examine  many  of  the  most  curious  old  documents. 
But  the  original  manuscript  of  Rousseau’s  Confessions , and 
of  his  Eloisa , produced  me  a real  treat.  His  writing  is  as 
legible  as  print ; the  Eloisa , a work  of  mere  fancy,  without 
one  obliteration  ; whilst  the  Confessions , which  the  author 
put  forth  as  matter  of  fact,  are,  oddly  enough,  full  of  altera- 
tions in  every  page. 

When  I wished  for  an  hour  of  close  observation,  I used 
to  draw  my  chair  to  a window,  get  Rousseau  into  my  hand, 
and  whilst  apparently  riveted  on  his  Confessions , watch  from 
the  corner  of  my  eye  the  earnest  gesticulation  and  ever- 
varying  countenances  of  some  agitated  group  of  deputies  ; 
many  of  them,  as  they  passed  by,  cast  a glance  on  the  object 
of  my  attention,  of  which  I took  care  that  they  should 
always  have  a complete  view. 

Observing  one  day  a very  unsual  degree  of  excitement 
amongst  the  members  in  the  Chamber,  and  perceiving  the 
sally  of  the  groups  into  the  library  to  be  more  frequent  and 
earnest  than  ordinary,  I conceived  that  something  very  mys- 
terious was  in  agitation.  I mentioned  my  suspicions  to  a 
well-informed  friend  ; he  nodded  assent,  but  was  too  wise  or 
too  timorous  to  give  any  opinion  on  so  ticklish  a subject.  I 
well  knew  that  Napoleon  had  been  betrayed,  because  I had 
learned  from  an  authentic  source  that  secret  despatches  had 
been  actually  sent  by  Fouche  to  the  allies,  and  that  the  em- 
bassy to  the  Emperor  of  Russia,  from  M.  Lafitte,  etc.,  had 
been  some  hours  anticipated  and  counteracted  by  the  chief 
commissioner  of  government. 

It  was  clear  to  everybody  that  Napoleon  had  lost  his 
fortitude  ; in  fact,  to  judge  by  his  conduct,  he  seemed  so 
feeble  and  irresolute  that  he  had  ceased  to  be  formidable  ; 
and  it  occurred  to  me  that  some  sudden  and  strong  step  was 


44°  R Arrington’s  recollections. 

in  the  contemplation  of  his  true  friends  to  raise  his  energies 
once  more,  and  stimulate  him  to  resistance.  I was  led  to 
think  so  particularly  by  hearing  some  of  his  warmest  parti- 
sans publicly  declare  that,  if  he  had  not  lost  all  feeling  both 
for  himself  and  France,  he  should  take  the  alternative  of 
either  reigning  again  or  dying  in  the  centre  of  his  still 
devoted  army. 

The  next  day  confirmed  my  surmises.  I discovered  that 
a letter  had  been  written  without  signature,  addressed  to 
Count  Thibaudeau,  but  not  yet  sent,  disclosing  to  him,  in 
detail  and  with  proofs,  the  treachery  of  Fouche,  etc.,  and 
advising  the  emperor  instantly  to  arrest  the  traitors,  unfold 
the  treason  to  the  Chambers,  then  put  himself  at  the  head 
of  his  Guards,  re-assemble  the  army  at  Villette,  and  before 
the  allies  could  unite  make  one  effort  more  to  save  France 
from  subjugation.  This  was,  I heard,  the  purport  of  the 
letter  ; and  I also  learned  the  mode  and  hour  determined 
on  to  carry  it  to  Count  Thibaudeau.  It  was  to  be  slipped 
into  the  letter-box  in  the  ante-room  of  the  Chamber,  which 
was  used,  as  I have  already  mentioned,  as  a library.  I was 
determined  to  ascertain  the  fact  ; and  seated  in  one  of  the 
windows,  turning  over  the  leaves  and  copying  passages  out 
of  my  favourite  manuscripts,  I could  see  plainly  where  the 
letter-box  was  placed,  and  kept  it  constantly  in  my  eye. 
The  crowd  was  always  considerable  ; groups  were  con- 
versing ; notes  and  letters  were  every  moment  put  into  the 
box  for  delivery  ; but  I did  not  see  the  person  who  had  been 
described  to  me  as  about  to  give  Count  Thibaudeau  the 
information.  At  length,  however,  I saw  him  warily  approach 
the  box  ; he  was  obviously  agitated — so  much  so,  indeed, 
that  far  from  avoiding,  his  palpable  timidity  would  have 
excited  observation.  He  had  the  note  in  his  hand  ; he 
looked  around  him,  put  his  hand  toward  the  box,  withdrew 
it,  changed  colour,  made  a second  effort,  and  his  resolution 
again  faltering,  walked  away  without  effecting  his  purpose 


LAST  DAYS  OF  THE  IMPERIAL  GOVERNMENT.  441 


I afterwards  learned  that  the  letter  had  been  destroyed,  and 
that  Count  Thibaudeau  received  no  intimation  till  too 
late. 

This  was  an  incident  fraught  with  portentous  results  ; had 
that  note  been  dropped  as  intended  into  the  box,  the  fate  of 
Europe  might  have  remained  long  undecided  ; Fouche,  the 
most  eminent  of  traitors,  would  surely  have  met  his  due 
reward  ; Bonaparte  would  have  put  himself  at  the  head  of 
the  army  assembling  at  Villette — numerous,  enthusiastic,  and 
desperate.  Neither  the  Austrian  nor  Russian  armies 
were  within  reach  of  Paris,  whilst  that  of  the  French  would, 
I believe,  in  point  of  numbers,  have  exceeded  the  English  and 
Prussian  united  force  ; and  it  is  more  than  probable  that  the 
most  exterminating  battle  which  ever  took  place  between  two 
great  armies  would  have  been  fought  next  day  in  the  suburbs, 
or  perhaps  in  the  Boulevards  of  Paris. 

Very  different,  indeed,  were  the  consequences  of  that  sup- 
pression. The  evil  genius  of  Napoleon  pressed  down  the 
balance,  and  instead  of  any  chance  of  remounting  his 
throne,  he  forfeited  both  his  lofty  character  and  his  life  ; and 
Fouche,  dreading  the  risk  of  detection,  devised  a plan  to  get 
the  emperor  clear  out  of  France,  and  put  him  at  least  into 
the  power  of  the  British  Government. 

This  last  occurrence  marked  finally  the  destiny  of 
Napoleon.  Fortune  had  not  only  forsaken , but  she  mocked 
him  ! She  tossed  about  and  played  with  before  she  de- 
stroyed her  victim — one  moment  giving  him  hopes  which 
only  rendered  despair  more  terrible  the  next.  After  what 
I saw  of  his  downfall,  no  public  event,  no  revolution,  can 
ever  excite  in  my  mind  one  moment  of  surprise.  I have 
seen,  and  deeply  feel,  that  we  are  daily  deceived  in  our  views 
of  everything  and  everybody. 

Bonaparte’s  last  days  of  power  were  certainly  full  of  tre- 
mendous vicissitudes — on  one  elated  by  a great  victory,  on 
the  next  overwhelmed  by  a fatal  overthrow.  Hurled  from  a 


442 


Barrington’s  recollections. 


lofty  throne  into  the  deepest  profundity  of  misfortune  ; 
bereft  of  his  wife  and  only  child  ; persecuted  by  his  enemies; 
abandoned  by  his  friends  ; betrayed  by  his  ministers  ; 
humbled,  depressed,  paralysed  ; his  proud  heart  died  within 
him  ; his  great  spirit  was  quenched  ; and  after  a grievous 
struggle,  despair  became  his  conqueror,  and  Napoleon 
Bonaparte  degenerated  into  an  ordinary  mortal. 


DETENTION  AT  VILLETTE. 


443 


CHAPTER  XLIX. 

DETENTION  AT  VILLETTE. 

In  the  month  of  July,  1815,  there  was  a frequent  intercourse 
or  parlementaires  between  the  commissioners  of  the  French 
Government  and  the  Allies.  Davoust,  Prince  d’Eckmuhl, 
commanded  the  French  army  assembled  at  Villette  and  about 
the  Canal  d’Ourk,  a neighbourhood  where  many  thousand 
Russians  had  fallen  in  the  battle  of  the  preceding  summer. 
I had  the  greatest  anxiety  to  see  the  French  army  ; and 
Colonel  Macirone  being  sent  out  with  one  of  Fouche’s 
despatches  to  the  Duke  of  Wellington,  I felt  no  apprehen- 
sion, being  duly  armed  with  my  sauf  conduit , and  thought  I 
wrould  take  that  opportunity  of  passing  the  Barrier  de  Roule, 
and  strolling  about  until  Macirone’s  carriage  should  come 
up.  It,  however,  by  some  mischance,  drove  rapidly  by  me, 
and  I was  consequently  left  in  rather  an  awkward  situation. 

I did  not  remain  long  in  suspense,  being  stopped  by  two 
officers,  who  questioned  me  somewhat  tartly  as  to  my  pre- 
sumption in  passing  the  sentries,  “ who,”  said  they,  “ must 
have  mistaken  you  for  one  of  the  Commissaries’  attendants.” 
I produced  my  passport,  which  stood  me  in  no  further 
advantage  than  to  ensure  a very  civil  arrest.  I was  directly 
taken  to  the  quarters  of  Marshal  Davoust,  who  was  at  the 
time  breakfasting  on  grapes  and  bread  in  a very  good  hotel 
by  the  side  of  the  canal.  He  shewed  at  first  a sort  of  austere 
indifference  that  was  extremely  disagreeable  to  me  ; but  on 
my  telling  him  who  I wTas,  and  everything  relating  to  the 
transaction,  the  manifestation  of  my  candour  struck  him  so 
forcibly,  that  he  said  I was  at  liberty  to  wTalk  about,  but  not 
to  repass  the  lines  till  the  return  of  the  parlementaires , and 
farther  inquiry  made  about  me.  I was  not  altogether  at  my 


444 


Barrington’s  recollections. 


ease.  The  prince  was  now  very  polite,  but  I knew  nobody, 
and  was  undoubtedly  a suspicious  person.  However,  I was 
civilly  treated  by  the  officers  who  met  me,  and,  on  the  con- 
trary, received  many  half-English  curses  from  several 
soldiers  who,  I suppose,  had  been  prisoners  in  England.  I 
was  extremely  hungry  and  much  fatigued,  and  kept  on  the 
bank  of  the  canal,  as  completely  out  of  the  way  of  the 
military  as  I could. 

I was  at  length  thus  accosted  in  my  own  language  by  an 
elderly  officer  : — 

“ Sir,”  said  he,  “ I think  I have  seen  you  in  England  ? ” 

“ I have  not  the  honour  to  recollect  having  met  you,  sir,” 
replied  I. 

“ I shall  not  readily  forget  it,”  rejoined  the  French  officer. 
“ Do  you  remember  being,  about  two  years  since,  in  the 
town  of  Odiham  ? ” 

“ Very  well,”  said  I. 

“You  recollect  some  French  officers  who  were  prisoners 
there  ? ” 

These  words  at  once  brought  the  circumstance  to  my 
mind,  and  I answered,  “I  do  now  recollect  seeing  you 
perfectly.” 

“Yes,”  said  my  interlocutor,  “ I was  one  of  the  three 
foreigners  who  were  pelted  with  mud  by  the  garcons  in  the 
streets  of  Odiham  ; and  do  you  remember  striking  one  of 
the  garcons  who  followed  us  for  their  conduct  ? ” 

“ I do  not  forget  it.” 

“ Come  with  me,  sir,”  pursued  he,  “ and  we’ll  talk  it  over 
in  another  place.” 

The  fact  had  been  as  he  represented.  A few  French 
officers,  prisoners  at  Odiham,  were  sometimes  roughly 
treated  by  the  mob.  Passing  by  chance  one  day  with  Lady 
Barrington  through  the  streets  of  that  town,  I saw  a great 
number  of  boys  following,  hooting,  and  hissing  the  French 
officers.  I struck  two  or  three  of  these  idle  dogs  with  my 


DETENTION  AT  VILLETTE. 


445 


cane,  and  rapped  at  the  constable’s  door,  who  immediately 
came  out  and  put  them  to  flight,  interfering,  however, 
rather  reluctantly  on  the  part  of  what  he  called  the  “ d — d 
French  foreigners.”  I expressed  and  felt  great  indignation  ; 
the  officers  thanked  me  warmly,  and  I believe  were  shortly 
after  removed  to  Oswestry. 

My  friend  told  me  that  his  two  comrades  at  Odiham  were 
killed — the  one  at  Waterloo,  and  the  other  by  a waggon 
passing  over  him  at  Charleroi  on  the  16th  of  June,  and  that 
scarcely  an  officer  who  had  been  prisoner  at  his  first  depot  at 
Oswestry  had  survived  the  last  engagements.  He  gave  me 
in  his  room  at  Villette  wine,  bread,  and  grapes,  with  dried 
sausages  well  seasoned  with  garlic,  and  a glass  of  eau-de-vie. 
I was  highly  pleased  at  this  rencontre.  My  companion 
was  a most  intelligent  person,  and  communicative  to  the 
utmost  extent  of  my  curiosity.  His  narrative  of  many  of 
the  events  of  the  battles  of  the  16th  and  18th  ult.  was  most 
interesting,  and  carried  with  it  every  mark  of  candour.  The 
minutes  rolled  away  speedily  in  his  company,  and  seemed  to 
me  indeed  far  too  fleeting. 

He  had  not  been  wounded,  though  in  the  heat  of  both 
engagements.  He  attributed  the  loss  of  the  battle  to  three 
causes  : — the  wanton  expenditure  of  the  cavalry,  the  negli- 
gent uncovering  of  the  right  wing  by  Grouchy,  and  the 
impetuosity  of  Napoleon  in  ordering  the  last  attack  by  the 
Old  Guard,  which  he  should  have  postponed  till  next  day. 
He  said  he  had  no  doubt  that  the  Belgian  troops  would  all 
have  left  the  field  before  morning.  He  had  been  engaged 
on  the  left,  and  did  not  see  the  Prussian  attack,  but  said 
that  it  had  the  effect  of  consolidating  all  the  different  corps 
of  the  French  army. 

He  told  me  that  Napoleon  was  forced  off  the  field  by  the 
irresistible  crowds  which  the  advance  of  the  English  cavalry 
had  driven  into  disorder,  whilst  there  was  not  a possibility 
of  rallying  a single  squadron  of  their  own.  His  episodes 


446  BARRINGTON’S  RECOLLECTIONS. 

respecting  the  occurrences  of  that  day  were  most  affecting, 
and  I believe  true. 

In  this  agreeable  society  my  spirits  mounted  again,  and  I 
soon  acquired  courage  sufficient  to  express  my  great  anxiety 
to  see  the  army,  adding  that  I durst  not  go  alone.  My  friend 
immediately  took  me  under  his  arm,  and  walked  with  me 
through  the  whole  lines,  introducing  me  to  several  of  his 
comrades,  and  acting  throughout  in  the  kindest  and  most 
gentlemanly  manner.  This  was  precisely  the  opportunity  I 
had  so  long  wished  for  of  viewing  the  French  troops,  which 
were  then  full  of  impetuosity  and  confidence,  and  eager  for 
battle.  Neither  the  Russians  nor  Austrians  had  reached 
Paris,  and  it  was  supposed  Davoust  would  anticipate  the 
attack  of  the  other  allies,  who  only  waited  for  the  junction 
of  these  powers  and  their  heavy  artillery  to  recommence 
operations.  The  scene  was  so  new  to  me,  so  impressive, 
and  so  important,  that  it  was  only  on  my  return  home  my 
mind  got  steady  enough  to  organise  its  ideas,  and  permit  me 
to  take  coherent  notes  of  what  I had  witnessed. 

The  battle  of  Waterloo  was  understood  to  have  dispersed 
so  entirely  the  French  army — that  powerful  and  glorious 
display  of  heroes  and  of  arms  which  a very  few  days  pre- 
viously had  passed  before  my  eyes — that  scarcely  ten  men, 
except  Grouchy’s  division,  returned  in  one  body  to  Paris  ; 
and  those  who  did  return  were  in  such  a state  of  wretchedness 
and  depression,  that  I took  for  granted  the  spirit  of  the 
French  army  had  been  extinguished,  their  battalions  never 
to  be  rallied,  their  courage  thoroughly  cooled.  I considered 
that  the  assembly  at  Villette  could  not  be  numerous,  and  was 
more  calculated  to  make  a show  for  better  terms  than  to 
resist  the  conquerors.  How  great  then  must  have  been  my 
astonishment  when  the  evening  parade  turned  out,  as  the 
officers  informed  me,  above  sixty-five  thousand  infantry, 
which,  with  artillery  and  cavalry,  reached  together  near 
80,000  men.  I thought  several  of  the  privates  had  drunk 


DETENTION  AT  VILLETTE. 


447 


rather  too  much  ; but  whether  sober  or  not,  they  seemed  to 
be  all  in  a state  of  wild,  enthusiastic  excitement,  little 
removed  from  insubordination,  but  directly  tending  to  hos- 
tility and  battle.  Whole  companies  cried  aloud,  as  the 
superior  officers  passed  by  them,  “ Mon  General , a Vattaque  ! 
Vennemi!  Vennemi!  allons  ! allons /”  Others  shouted  “Nous 
sommes  trahis  ! trahison  ! trahison  ! a la  bataille  ! a la 
bataille  ! ” Crowds  of  them,  as  if  by  instinct,  or  for  pastime, 
would  rush  voluntarily  together,  and  in  a moment  form  a 
long  column,  then  disperse  and  execute  some  other  manoe- 
uvre ; whilst  others  dispersed  in  groups,  sang  in  loud  chorus 
sundry  war  songs,  wherein  les  Prusses  and  les  Anglais  were 
the  general  theme. 

I had  no  conception  how  it  was  possible  that  in  a few 
days  after  such  a total  dispersion  of  the  French  army  another 
could  be  so  rapidly  collected,  and  which,  though  somewhat 
less  numerous,  the  officer  told  me  evinced  double  the  enthu- 
siasm of  those  who  had  formed  the  defeated  corps.  They 
had  now  it  is  true  the  stimulus  of  that  defeat  to  urge  them 
desperately  on  to  retrieve  that  military  glory  which  had  been 
so  awfully  obscured.  Their  artillery  was  most  abundant, 
and  we  must  never  forget  that  the  French  soldier  is  always 
better  informed  and  possessed  of  more  morale  than  our  own. 
In  truth,  I really  do  believe  there  was  scarcely  a man  in  that 
army  at  Villette  who  would  willingly  have  quitted  the  field  of 
battle  alive  unless  victorious 

Though  their  tumultuous  excitement  certainly  at  this 
time  bore  the  appearance  of  insubordination,  my  conductor 
assured  me  I was  mistaken  in  forming  such  a judgment ; he 
admitted  that  they  durst  not  check  that  exuberant  zeal  on 
the  instant,  but  added  that  when  the  period  arrived  to  form 
them  for  battle,  not  a voice  would  be  heard,  not  a limb 
move  till  the  attack  commenced,  except  by  order  of  their 
leaders,  and  that  if  the  traitors  in  Paris  suffered  them  once 
more  to  try  their  fortune,  he  did  not  think  there  was  an 


448 


Barrington’s  recollections. 


individual  in  that  army  who  entertained  a doubt  of  the 
result. 

In  the  production  of  this  confidence  party  spirit  doubtless 
was  mixed  up  ; but  no  impartial  observer  could  deny  that, 
if  the  troops  at  Villette  had  been  heartily  joined  by  forty 
thousand  of  the  National  Guards  and  country  volunteers 
then  within  the  walls  of  Paris,  the  consequence  would  have 
been  at  least  extremely  problematical. 

The  day  passed  on,  and  I still  strolled  about  with  my 
polite  conductor,  whom  I begged  to  remain  with  me.  He 
was  not  an  officer  of  high  rank — I believe  a captain  of  the 
8ist  Infantry,  tall,  very  thin,  gentlemanly,  and  had  seen  long 
service. 

From  this  crowd  of  infuriated  soldiers  he  led  me  farther 
to  the  left,  whither  a part  of  the  Old  Guard,  who  had  been, 
I believe,  quartered  at  Montmartre,  had  for  some  cause  or 
other  been  that  evening  removed.  I had,  as  the  reader  will 
perhaps  recollect,  a previous  opportunity  of  admiring  that 
unrivalled  body  of  veteran  warriors,  and  their  appearance 
this  evening  interested  me  beyond  measure.  Every  man 
looked  like  an  Ajax,  exhibiting  a firmness  of  step  and  of 
gesture  at  once  formidable  and  even  graceful.  At  the  same 
time  I fancied  that  there  was  a cast  of  melancholy  over  their 
bronzed  countenances.  When  I compare  what  I that  day 
witnessed  to  the  boyish,  ordinary-looking  corps  now 
generally  composing  the  guardians  of  that  once  military 
nation,  I can  scarcely  avoid  sighing  whilst  I exclaim  tempora 
mutantur  ! 

I grew,  however,  at  length  impatient ; evening  was  closing, 
and  if  detained,  I must,  I suppose,  have  bivouacked.  To  be 
sure,  the  weather  was  so  fine  that  it  would  have  been  of  no 
great  consequence,  still  my  situation  was  disagreeable,  and 
the  more  so,  as  my  family  being  quite  ignorant  of  it,  must 
necessarily  feel  uneasy.  I was,  therefore,  becoming  silent 
and  abstracted,  and  my  friend  had  no  kind  of  interest  to  get 


DETENTION  AT  VILLETTE. 


449 


me  released,  when  two  carriages  appeared  driving  towards 
the  barrier  where  we  stood.  A shot  was  fired  by  the 
advanced  sentry  at  one  of  them,  which  immediately  stopped. 
A party  was  sent  out,  and  the  carriage  entered.  There  were 
two  gentlemen  in  it,  one  of  whom  had  received  the  ball,  I 
believe,  in  his  shoulder.  A surgeon  instantly  attended, 
and  they  proceeded  within  the  lines.  They  proved  to  be 
two  of  the  parlementaires  who  had  gone  out  with  despatches. 
The  wound  was  not  mortal,  and  its  infliction  arose  from  a 
mistaken  construction  on  the  part  of  the  sentinel  of  his 
orders. 

The  other  carriage  (in  which  was  Colonel  Macirone)  drove 
on  without  stopping  at  the  headquarters  of  Davoust.  My 
kind  companion  said  he  would  now  go  and  try  to  get  me 
dismissed.  He  did  so,  and  procured  an  order  for  my  depar- 
ture, on  signing  my  name,  address,  and  occupation,  and  the 
name  of  some  person  who  knew  me  in  Paris.  I mentioned 
Mr.  Phillips,  of  Lafitte’s,  and  was  then  suffered  to  depart. 
It  will  be  imagined  that  I was  not  dilatory  in  walking  home, 
where,  of  course,  I was  received  as  a lost  sheep , no  member 
of  my  family  having  the  slightest  idea  whither  I had  gone. 

The  officer,  as  he  accompanied  me  to  the  barrier,  described 
to  me  the  interview  between  the  parlementaires  and  Davoust. 
They  had,  it  seems,  made  progress  in  the  negotiation  very 
much  against  the  marshal’s  inclinations.  He  was  confident 
of  victory,  and  expressed  himself  with  great  warmth,  in  the 
following  emphatic  words  : — “ Begone  ! and  tell  your  em- 
ployer, Fouche,  that  the  Prince  of  Eckmuhl  will  defend  Paris 
till  its  flames  set  this  handkerchief  on  fire  ! ” waving  one  as 
he  spoke. 


I Q 


(p  3U) 


450 


Barrington’s  recollections. 


CHAPTER  L. 

PROJECTED  ESCAPE  OF  NAPOLEON. 

It  was  the  received  opinion  that  the  allies  would  form  a 
blockade  rather  than  venture  an  assault  on  Paris.  The 
numerical  strength  and  morale  of  the  French  army  at  Villette 
the  reader  has  already  seen.  The  English  army  was  within 
view  of,  and  occupied  St.  Denis  ; the  Prussians  were  on  the 
side  of  Sevres  ; and  the  Russians  were  expected  in  the  direc- 
tion of  Charenton,  along  the  Marne.  That  Paris  might  have 
been  taken  by  storm  is  possible  ; but  if  the  French  army 
had  been  agumented  by  one-half  of  the  National  Guard,  the 
effort  would  surely  have  been  most  sanguinary,  and  the  result 
most  doubtful.  Had  the  streets  been  intersected,  mines 
sunk,  the  bridges  broken  down,  and  the  populace  armed  as 
well  as  circumstances  would  permit,  the  heights  being  at  the 
same  time  duly  defended,  though  I am  not  a military  man, 
and,  therefore,  very  liable  to  error  on  such  a subject,  I have 
little  doubt,  instead  of  mere  negotiation,  it  would  have  cost 
the  allies  more  than  one-half  of  their  forces  before  they  had 
arrived  in  the  centre  of  the  French  metropolis.  The  defence 
of  Saragossa  by  Palafox  (though  but  a chieftain  of  Guerilla) 
proved  the  possibility  of  defending  an  open  town  against  a 
valorous  enemy. 

I was  breakfasting  in  Dr.  Marshall’s  garden  when  we 
heard  a heavy  firing  commence.  It  proceeded  from  Charen- 
ton, about  three  miles  from  Paris,  where  the  Russian 
advanced  guard  had  attacked  the  bridge,  which  had  not  been 
broken  up,  although  it  was  one  of  the  leading  avenues  to  the 
Castle  of  Vincennes.  Fouche  indeed  had  contrived  to 
weaken  this  post  effectually,  so  that  the  defence  there  could 
not  be  long  protracted,  and  he  had  also  ordered  ten  thousand 


PROJECTED  ESCAPE  OF  NAPOLEON.  45 1 

stand  of  arms  to  be  taken  secretly  out  of  Paris  and  lodged 
in  the  Castle  of  Vincennes  to  prevent  the  Parisians  from 
arming. 

The  discharges  continuing  in  occasional  volleys,  like  a 
sort  of  running  fire,  I was  most  anxious  to  go  to  some  spot 
which  would  command  that  part  of  the  country  ; but  the 
doctor  dissuaded  me,  saying  it  could  not  be  a severe  or 
lengthened  struggle,  as  Fouche  had  taken  care  of  that  matter. 
I led  him  gradually  into  conversation  on  the  business, 
and  he  made  known  to  me,  though  equivocally , much 
more  than  I had  ever  suspected.  Every  despatch,  every 
negotiation,  every  step  which  it  was  supposed  by  such  among 
the  French  as  had  their  country’s  honour  and  character  at 
heart  might  operate  to  prevent  the  Allies  from  approaching 
Paris  after  the  second  abdication,  had  been  either  accom- 
panied by  counter  applications,  or  defeated  by  secret 
instructions  from  Fouche. 

While  mock  negotiations  were  thus  carrying  on  at  a dis- 
tance, and  before  the  English  army  had  reached  St.  Denis, 
Bonaparte  was  already  at  Malmaison.  It  had  become  quite 
clear  that  he  was  a lost  man  ; and  this  most  celebrated  of 
all  soldiers  on  record  proved  by  his  conduct  at  that  crisis 
the  distinction  between  animal  and  mental  courage  : the 
first  is  an  instinctive  quality,  enjoyed  by  us  in  common  with 
many  of  the  brute  creation  ; the  latter  is  the  attribute  of 
man  alone.  The  first  Napoleon  eminently  possessed  ; in 
the  latter  he  was  certainly  defective.  Frederick  the  Great,  in 
mental  courage,  was  altogether  superior  to  Napoleon.  He 
could  fight  and  fly,  and  rally  and  fight  again.  His  spirit 
never  gave  in  ; his  perseverance  never  flagged.  He  seemed, 
in  fact,  insusceptible  of  despondency,  and  was  even  greater 
in  defeat  than  in  victory.  He  never  quitted  his  army  whilst 
a troop  could  be  rallied  ; and  the  seven  years’  war  proved 
that  the  King  of  Prussia  was  equally  illustrious,  whether 
fugitive  or  conqueror. 


45  2 


Barrington’s  recollections. 


Napoleon  reversed  those  qualities.  No  warrior  that  his- 
tory records  ever  was  so  great  whilst  successful : his  victories 
were  followed  up  with  the  rapidity  of  lightning.  In  over- 
whelming an  army  he,  in  fact,  often  subdued  a kingdom,  and 
profited  more  by  each  triumph  than  any  general  that  had 
preceded  him.  But  he  could  not  stand  up  under  defeat  ! 

The  several  plans  for  Napoleon’s  escape  I heard  as  they 
were  successively  formed  ; such  of  them  as  had  an  appear- 
ance of  plausibility  Fouche  found  means  to  counteract.  It 
would  not  be  amusing  to  relate  the  various  devices  which 
were  suggested  for  this  purpose.  Napoleon  was  meanwhile 
almost  passive  and  wrapped  in  apathy.  He  clung  to  exist- 
ence with  even  a mean  tenacity  ; and  it  is  difficult  to  imagine 
but  that  his  intellect  must  have  suffered  before  he  was  led  to 
endure  a life  of  ignominious  exile. 

At  Dr.  Marshall’s  hotel  one  morning  I remarked  his 
travelling  carriage  as  if  put  in  preparation  for  a journey, 
having  candles  in  the  lamps,  etc.  A smith  had  been  ex- 
amining it,  and  the  servants  were  all  in  motion.  I suspected 
some  movement  of  consequence,  but  could  not  surmise 
what.  The  doctor  did  not  appear  to  think  that  I had 
observed  these  preparations. 

On  a sudden,  whilst  walking  in  the  garden,  I turned  short 
on  him. 

“ Doctor,”  said  I at  a venture,  “ you  are  going  on  an 
important  journey  to-night.” 

“ How  do  you  know  ? ” said  he,  thrown  off  his  guard  by 
the  abruptness  of  my  remark. 

“ Well ! ” continued  I,  smiling/4  I wish  you  well  out  of  it  ! ” 

“ Out  of  what  ? ” exclaimed  he,  recovering  his  self- 
possession  and  sounding  me  in  his  turn. 

44  Oh,  no  matter,  no  matter,”  said  I with  a significant  nod, 
as  if  I was  already  acquainted  with  his  proceedings. 

This  bait  took  in  some  degree  ; and  after  a good  deal  of 
fencing  (knowing  that  he  could  fully  depend  on  my  secrecy), 


PROJECTED  ESCAPE  OF  NAPOLEON. 


453 


the  doctor  led  me  into  his  study,  where  he  said  he  would 
communicate  to  me  a very  interesting  and  important  matter. 
He  then  unlocked  his  desk  and  produced  an  especial  pass- 
port for  himself  and  his  secretary  to  Havre  de  Grace,  thence 
to  embark  to  England  ; and  he  shewed  me  a very  large  and 
also  a smaller  bag  of  gold,  which  he  was  about  to  take  with 
him. 

He  proceeded  to  inform  me  that  it  was  determined 
Napoleon  should  go  to  England  ; that  he  had  himself 
agreed  to  it,  and  that  he  was  to  travel  in  Dr.  Marshall’s 
carriage  as  his  secretary,  under  the  above-mentioned  pass- 
port. It  was  arranged  that  at  twelve  o’clock  that  night 
the  emperor  with  the  Queen  of  Holland  were  to  be  at 
Marshall’s  house,  and  to  set  off  thence  immediately  ; that 
on  arriving  in  England  he  was  forthwith  to  repair  to  London, 
preceded  by  a letter  to  the  Prince  Regent,  stating  that  he 
threw  himself  on  the  protection  and  generosity  of  the 
British  nation,  and  required  permission  to  reside  therein 
as  a private  individual. 

The  thing  seemed  to  me  too  romantic  to  be  serious  ; and 
the  doctor  could  not  avoid  perceiving  my  incredulity.  He, 
however,  enjoined  me  to  secrecy,  which,  by-the-bye,  was  un- 
necessary : I mentioned  the  circumstance,  and  should  have 
mentioned  it  only  to  one  member  of  my  family,  whom  I 
knew  to  be  as  cautious  as  myself.  But  I determined  to 
ascertain  the  fact  ; and  before  twelve  o’clock  at  night 
repaired  to  the  Rue  Pigale,  and  stood  up  underneath  a door 
somewhat  farther  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  street  to  Dr. 
Marshall’s  house. 

A strong  light  shone  through  the  curtains  of  the  first  floor 
windows,  and  lights  were  also  moving  about  in  the  upper 
storey.  The  court  meantime  was  quite  dark,  and  the  indi- 
cations altogether  bespoke  that  something  extraordinary  was 
going  forward  in  the  house.  Every  moment  I expected  to 
see  Napoleon  come  to  the  gate.  He  came  not  ; but  about 


454  Barrington’s  recollections. 

half  after  twelve  an  elderly  officer,  buttoned  up  in  a blue 
surtout,  rode  up  to  the  porte-cochere,  which,  on  his  ringing, 
was  instantly  opened.  He  went  in,  and  after  remaining 
about  twenty  minutes,  came  out  on  horseback  as  before,  and 
went  down  the  street.  I thought  he  might  have  been  a pre- 
cursor, and  still  kept  my  ground  until,  some  time  after,  the 
light  in  the  first  floor  was  extinguished  ; and  thence  infer- 
ring what  subsequently  proved  to  be  the  real  state  of  the 
case,  I returned  homewards  disappointed. 

Next  day  Dr.  Marshall  told  me  that  Napoleon  had  been 
dissuaded  from  venturing  to  Havre  de  Grace — he  believed 
by  the  Queen  of  Holland  ; some  idea  had  occurred  either 
to  him  or  her  that  he  might  not  be  fairly  dealt  with  on  the 
road.  I own  the  same  suspicion  had  struck  me  when  I first 
heard  of  the  plot,  though  I was  far  from  implicating  the 
doctor  in  any  proceeding  of  a decidedly  treacherous  nature. 
The  incident  was,  however,  in  all  its  bearings  an  extra- 
ordinary one. 

My  intimacy  with  Dr.  Marshall  at  length  ceased,  and  in  a 
manner  very  disagreeable.  I liked  the  man,  and  I do  not 
wish  to  hurt  his  feelings  ; but  certain  mysterious  imputations 
thrown  out  by  his  lady  terminated  our  connexion. 

A person  with  whom  I was  extremely  intimate  happened 
to  be  in  my  drawing-room  one  day  when  Mrs.  Marshall 
called.  I observed  nothing  of  a particular  character  except 
that  Mrs.  Marshall  went  suddenly  away  ; and  as  I handed 
her  into  her  carriage  she  said,  “You  promised  to  dine  with 
us  to-morrow,  and  I requested  you  to  bring  any  friend  you 
liked  ; but  do  not  let  it  be  that  fellow  I have  just  seen  ; I 
have  taken  a great  dislike  to  his  countenance  ! ” No  further 
observation  was  made,  and  the  lady  departed. 

On  the  next  morning  I received  a note  from  Mrs.  Marshall, 
stating  that  she  had  reason  to  know  some  malicious  person 
had  represented  me  as  being  acquainted  with  certain  affairs 
very  material  for  the  Government  to  understand,  and 


PROJECTED  ESCAPE  OF  NAPOLEON.  455 

as  having  papers  in  my  possession  which  might  be  required 
from  me  by  the  minister  Fouche  ; advising  me,  therefore,  to 
leave  town  for  a while  sooner  than  be  troubled  respecting 
business  so  disagreeable,  and  adding  that,  in  the  meantime, 
Colonel  Macirone  would  endeavour  to  find  out  the  facts  and 
apprise  me  of  them. 

I never  was  more  surprised  in  my  life  than  at  the  receipt 
of  this  letter.  I had  never  meddled  at  all  in  French  politics 
save  to  hear  and  see  all  I could  and  say  nothing.  I neither 
held  nor  had  held  any  political  paper  whatever,  and  I,  there- 
fore, immediately  went  to  Sir  Charles  Stuart,  our  ambas- 
sador, made  my  complaints,  and  requested  his  Excellency’s 
personal  interference.  To  my  surprise,  Sir  Charles  in  reply 
asked  me  how  I could  chance  to  know  such  a person  as 
Macirone  ? I did  not  feel  pleased  at  this,  and  answered 
somewhat  tartly,  “ Because  both  the  English  and  French 
Governments,  and  his  Excellency  to  boot,  had  not  only 
intercourse  with,  but  had  employed  Macirone  both  in  Italy 
and  Paris,  and  that  I knew  him  to  be  at  that  moment  in 
communication  with  persons  of  the  highest  respectability  in 
both  countries.” 

Sir  Charles  then  wrote  a note  to  Fouche,  informing  him 
who  I was,  etc.,  and  I finally  discovered  it  was  all  a scheme 
of  Mrs.  Marshall  for  a purpose  of  her  own.  This  led 
me  to  other  investigations,  and  the  result  was  that  further 
communication  with  Dr.  Marshall  on  my  part  became 
impossible.  I certainly  regretted  the  circumstance,  for  he 
was  a gentlemanly  and  intelligent  man. 

Colonel  Macirone  himself  was  soon  taught  by  Fouche 
what  it  is  to  be  the  tool  of  a traitor.  Although  the  colonel 
might  have  owed  no  allegiance  to  Napoleon,  he  owed  respect 
to  himself , and  having  forfeited  this  to  a certain  degree,  he 
had  the  mortification  to  find  that  the  only  remuneration 
which  the  arch-apostate  was  disposed  to  concede  him  was 
public  disgrace  and  a dungeon. 


45  & 


BARRINGTON'S  RECOLLECTIONS* 


CHAPTER  LI. 

BATTLE  OF  SEVRES  AND  ISSY* 

My  anxiety  to  witness  a battle,  without  being  necessarily  a 
party  in  it,  did  not  long  remain  ungratified.  Whilst  walking 
one  afternoon  on  the  Boulevard  Italien,  a very  heavy  firing 
of  musketry  and  cannon  burst  upon  my  ear.  It  proceeded 
from  up  the  course  of  the  Seine,  in  the  direction  of  Sevres. 
I knew  at  once  that  a military  engagement  was  going  forward, 
and  my  heart  bounded  at  the  thought — the  sounds  appeared 
to  me  of  all  others  the  most  sublime  and  tremendous.  One 
moment  there  was  a rattling  of  musketry,  which  appeared 
nearer  or  more  distant  according  to  the  strength  of  the  gale 
which  wafted  its  volleys  ; another,  the  heavy  echo  of  ord- 
nance rolled  through  the  groves  and  valley  of  Sevres  and  the 
village  of  Issy  ; again,  these  seemed  superseded  by  a separate 
firing,  as  of  small  bodies  of  skirmishers  ; and  the  whole 
was  mingled  with  the  shouts  and  hurrahs  of  the  assailants 
and  assailed.  Altogether,  my  nerves  experienced  a sensation 
different  from  any  that  had  preceded  it,  and  alike  dis- 
tinguished both  from  bravery  and  fear. 

As  yet  the  battle  had  only  reached  me  by  one  sense, 
although  imagination,  it  is  true,  supplied  the  place  of  all. 
Though  my  eyes  viewed  not  the  field  of  action,  yet  the 
sanguinary  conflict  moved  before  my  fancy  in  most  vivid 
colouring. 

I was  in  company  with  Mr.  Lewines  when  the  first  firing 
roused  our  attention.  “ A treble  line  ” of  ladies  was  seated 
in  front  of  Tortoni’s,  under  the  lofty  arbours  of  the  Boule- 
vard Italien,  enjoying  their  ices  and  an  early  soiree , and 
attended  by  a host  of  unmilitary  chers-amis , who,  together 
with  mendicant  songsters  and  musicians,  were  dispersed 


BATTLE  OF  SEVRES  AND  ISSY. 


457 


along  that  line  of  female  attraction  which  “ occupied  ” one 
side  of  the  entire  boulevard,  and  with  scarcely  any  inter- 
ruption “ stretched  away  ” to  the  Porte  St.  Martin.  Strange 
to  say,  scarcely  a movement  was  excited  amongst  the  fair 
part  of  the  society  by  the  report  of  the  ordnance  and  mus- 
ketry ; not  one  beauty  rose  from  her  chair,  or  checked  the 
passage  of  the  refreshing  ice  to  her  pouting  lips.  I could 
not  choose  but  be  astonished  at  this  apathy,  which  was  only 
disturbed  by  the  thunder  of  a tremendous  salvo  of  artillery, 
announcing  that  the  affair  was  becoming  more  general. 

“ Ah  ! sacre  Dieu  ! ma  chere  ! ” said  one  lovely  creature  to 
another,  as  they  sat  at  the  entrance  of  Tortoni’s.  “ Sacre 
Dieu  ! qu'est-ce  que  ce  superbe  coup-la  ?”  “C'est  le  canon , ma 
ch&re  ! ” replied  her  friend.  “La  bataille  est  a la  pointe  de 
commencer “Ah  ! oui , oui  ! c'est  bien  magnifique  ! ecoutez  ! 
ecoutez  ! ” “ Ah  ! ” returned  the  other,  tasting  with  curious 

deliberation  her  lemon-ice,  “ cette  glace  est  tres  excellente  ! ” 

Meanwhile  the  roar  continued.  I could  stand  it  no  longer. 
I was  stung  with  curiosity,  and  determined  to  see  the  battle. 
Being  at  a very  little  distance  from  our  hotel,  I recommended 
Lady  Barrington  and  my  family  to  retire  thither,  which 
advice  they  did  not  take,  and  I immediately  set  off  to  seek 
a good  position  in  the  neighbourhood  of  the  fight,  which  I 
imagined  could  not  be  far  distant,  as  the  sounds  seemed 
every  moment  to  increase  in  strength.  I now  perceived  a 
great  many  gendarmes  singly,  and  in  profound  silence,  strol- 
ling about  the  boulevard,  and  remarking,  though  without 
seeming  to  notice,  everything  and  everybody. 

I had  no  mode  of  accounting  for  the  fortitude  and  in- 
difference of  so  many  females,  but  by  supposing  that  a great 
proportion  of  them  might  have  been  themselves  campaigning 
with  their  husbands  or  their  chers-amis,  a circumstance  that, 
I was  told,  had  been  by  no  means  uncommon  during  the  wars 
of  the  revolution  and  of  Napoleon. 

One  lady  told  me  herself  she  did  not  dress  for  ten  years  in 


45§ 


BARRINGTON  S RECOLLECTIONS. 


the  attire  of  a female — her  husband  had  acted,  I believe,  as 
commissary-general.  They  are  both  living  and  well,  to  the 
best  of  my  knowledge,  at  this  moment,  at  Boulogne-sur- 
Mer,  and  the  lady  is  particularly  clever  and  intelligent. 
“ Nothing,”  said  she  to  me  one  day,  “ nothing,  sir,  can 
longer  appear  strange  to  me.  I really  think  I have  witnessed 
an  example  of  everything  in  human  nature,  good  or  evil  ! ” 
and  from  the  various  character  of  the  scenes  through  which 
she  had  passed,  I believe  her. 

A Jew  physician,  living  in  Rue  Richelieu,  a friend  of 
Baron  Rothschild,  who  had  a tolerable  telescope,  had  lent  it 
to  me.  I first  endeavoured  to  gain  admission  into  the  pillar 
in  the  Place  Vendome,  but  was  refused.  I saw  that  the  roof 
of  Notre  Dame  was  already  crowded,  and  knew  not  where 
to  go.  I durst  not  pass  a barrier,  and  I never  felt  the 
tortures  of  curiosity  so  strongly  upon  me  ! At  length  I got 
a cabriolet,  and  desired  the  man  to  drive  me  to  any  point 
from  whence  I might  see  the  conflict.  He  accordingly  took 
me  to  the  farther  end  of  Rue  de  Bataille,  at  Chailloit,  in  the 
vicinity  whereof  was  the  site  marked  out  for  the  palace  of 
the  King  of  Rome.  Here  was  a green  plat,  with  a few  trees, 
and  under  one  of  these  I sat  down  upon  the  grass,  and  over- 
looked distinctly  the  entire  left  of  the  engagement  and  the 
sanguinary  combat  which  was  fought  on  the  slopes,  lawn, 
and  about  the  house  and  courts  of  Bellevue. 

Whoever  has  seen  the  site  of  that  intended  palace  must 
recollect  that  the  view  it  commands  is  one  of  the  finest 
imaginable.  It  had  been  the  hanging  gardens  of  a monas- 
tery. The  Seine  flows  at  the  foot  of  the  slope,  and  thence 
the  eye  wanders  to  the  hill  of  Bellevue  and  onwards  to  St. 
Cloud.  The  village  of  Issy,  which  commences  at  the  foot 
of  Bellevue,  stretches  itself  thinly  up  the  banks  of  the  Seine 
toward  Paris,  nearly  to  one  of  the  suburbs,  leaving  just  a 
verdant  border  of  meadow  and  garden  ground  to  edge 
the  waters.  Extensive,  undulating  hills  rise  up  behind  the 


BATTLE  OF  SEVRES  AND  ISSY. 


459 


Hotel  de  Bellevue,  and  from  them  the  first  attack  had  been 
made  upon  the  Prussians.  In  front  the  Pont  de  Jena  opens 
the  entrance  to  the  Champ  de  Mars,  terminated  by  the 
magnificent  gilt  dome  of  the  Hotel  des  Invalides,  with  the 
city  of  Paris  stretching  to  the  left. 

It  was  a tranquil  evening  ; the  sun  in  all  his  glory  piercing 
through  the  smoke  which  mounted  from  the  field  of  battle, 
and  illuminating  its  sombre  flakes,  likened  it  to  a rich  gilded 
canopy  moving  over  the  combatants. 

The  natural  ardour  of  my  mind  was  peculiarly  stimulated 
on  this  occasion.  Never  having  witnessed  before  any  scene 
of  a corresponding  nature,  I could  not,  and  indeed  sought 
not,  to  repress  a sensation  of  awe.  I felt  my  breathing  short 
or  protracted  as  the  character  of  the  scene  varied.  An  old 
soldier  would  no  doubt  have  laughed  at  the  excess  of  my 
emotion,  particularly  as  the  affair,  although  sharp,  was  not 
of  a very  extensive  nature.  One  observation  was  forcibly 
impressed  on  me — namely,  that  both  the  firing  and  man- 
oeuvring of  the  French  were  a great  deal  more  rapid  than 
those  of  the  Prussians.  When  a change  of  position  was 
made,  the  Prussians  marched , the  French  ran  ; their  advance 
was  quicker,  their  retreat  less  regular,  but  their  rallying 
seemed  to  me  most  extraordinary  ; dispersed  detachments 
of  the  French  reassociated  with  the  rapidity  of  lightning,  and 
advanced  again  as  if  they  had  never  separated. 

The  combats  within  the  palace  of  Bellevue  and  the  courts 
were,  of  course,  concealed  ; but  if  I might  judge  from  the 
constant  firing  within,  the  sudden  rushes  from  the  house, 
the  storming  at  the  entrance,  and  the  battles  on  the  lawn, 
there  must  have  been  great  carnage.  In  my  simplicity,  in 
fact,  I only  wondered  how  anybody  could  escape. 

The  battle  now  extended  to  the  village  of  Issy,  which  was 
taken  and  retaken  many  times.  Neither  party  could  keep 
possession  of  it — scouting  in  and  out  as  fortune  wavered. 
At  length,  probably  from  the  actual  exhaustion  of  the  men, 


460 


Barrington’s  recollections. 


the  fire  of  musketry  slackened,  but  the  cannon  still  rolled 
at  intervals  around  Sevres,  and  a Prussian  shell  fell  into 
the  celebrated  manufactory  of  that  place,  whilst  several 
cannon  shot  penetrated  the  handsome  hotel  which  stands 
on  an  eminence  above  Sevres,  and  killed  fourteen  or  fifteen 
Prussian  officers,  who  were  in  a group  taking  refreshment.* 

I now  began  to  feel  weary  of  gazing  on  the  boisterous 
monotony  of  the  fight,  which,  so  far  as  any  advantage 
appeared  to  be  gained  on  either  side,  might  be  interminable. 
A man  actually  engaged  in  battle  can  see  but  little  and  think 
less  ; but  a secure  and  contemplative  spectator  has  opened 
to  him  a field  of  inexhaustible  reflection  ; and  my  faculties 
were  fast  becoming  abstracted  from  the  scene  of  strife  when 
a loud  and  uncommon  noise  announced  some  singular  event, 
and  once  more  excited  me.  We  could  not  perceive  whence 
it  came,  but  guessed,  and  truly,  that  it  proceeded  from  the 
demolition  of  the  bridge  of  St.  Cloud,  which  the  French 
had  blown  up.  A considerable  number  of  French  troops 
now  appeared  withdrawing  from  the  battle,  and  passing  to 
our  side  of  the  river  on  rafts,  just  under  our  feet.  We  could 
not  tell  the  cause  of  this  movement,  but  it  was  reported  by  a 
man  who  came  into  the  field  that  the  English  army  at  St. 
Denis  was  seen  in  motion,  and  that  some  attack  on  our  side 
of  the  city  itself  might  be  expected.  I scarcely  believed  this, 
yet  the  retreat  of  a part  of  the  French  troops  tended  not  to 
discourage  the  idea  ; and  as  the  National  Guards  were  heard 
beating  to  arms  in  all  directions  of  the  city,  I thought  it 
most  advisable  to  return,  which  I immediately  did  before  the 
firing  had  ceased,  and  in  the  same  cabriolet. 

On  my  return,  judge  of  my  astonishment  at  finding  the 
very  same  assemblage  in  the  very  same  place  on  the  boulevard 
as  when  I left  it  ; nor  did  a single  being  except  my  own 

* I visited  the  spot  a few  days  .subsequently,  and  found  that  noble 
hall,  which  had  been  totally  lined  by  the  finest  mirrors,  without  one 
remaining.  I never  saw  such  useless  and  wanton  devastation  as  had 
been  committed  by  the  Prussians. 


BATTLE  OF  SEVRES  AND  ISSY.  46 1 

family  express  the  slightest  curiosity  upon  hearing  whence 
I had  come. 

The  English  army,  as  it  turned  out,  did  not  move.  The 
firing  after  a while  totally  ceased,  and  the  French  cavalry, 
which  I did  not  see  engaged,  with  some  infantry  marched 
into  the  Champ  de  Mars,  to  take  up  their  night’s  position. 

Having  thus  been  gratified  by  the  view  of  what  to  my 
unaccustomed  eyes  seemed  a great  battle,  and  would,  I 
suppose,  by  military  men  be  termed  nothing  more  than 
a long  skirmish,  I met  Sir  Francis  Gold,  who  proposed  that 
we  should  walk  to  the  Champ  de  Mars,  “ just,”  said  he,  “ to 
see  what  the  fellows  are  doing  after  the  battle.” 

To  this  I peremptorily  objected,  for  reasons  which  must 
be  obvious,  and  which  seemed  to  prohibit  any  Englishman 
in  his  sober  senses  from  going  into  such  Company  at  such  a 
moment. 

“ Never  mind,”  continued  Sir  Francis,  “ I love  my  skin 
every  bit  as  well  as  you  do  yours,  and,  depend  upon  it,  we 
shall  not  meet  the  slightest  molestation.  If  we  go  with  a 
lady  in  our  company,  be  assured  we  may  walk  about  and 
remain  in  the  place  as  long  as  we  please.  I can  speak  from 
experience.” 

“ Ah,  true,  true  ! But  where  is  the  lady  ? ” said  I. 

“ I will  introduce  you  to  a very  charming  one  of  my 
acquaintance,”  answered  Sir  Francis,  “ and  I’ll  request  her 
to  do  us  the  favour  of  accompanying  us.”  I now  half-reluc- 
tantly  agreed.  Curiosity  prevailed  as  usual,  and  away  we 
went  to  the  lodgings  of  Sir  Francis’s  fair  friend. 

The  lady  certainly  did  not  dishonour  the  epithet  Sir 
Francis  had  bestowed  on  her.  She  was  a young,  animated 
French  girl,  rather  pretty,  and  well  dressed — one  of  those 
lively  creatures  who,  you  would  say,  always  have  their  “ wits 
about  them.”  My  friend  explained  the  request  he  had  come 
to  prefer,  and  begged  her  to  make  her  toilet  with  all  con- 
venient expedition.  The  lady  certainly  did  not  dissent,  bqt 


462 


BARRINGTON'S  RECOLLECTIONS. 


her  acquiescence  was  followed  by  a hearty  and  seemingly 
uncontrollable  burst  of  laughter.  “ Excuse  me,  gentlemen,” 
exclaimed  she,  “ but  really  I cannot  help  laughing.  I will 
with  pleasure  walk  with  you  ; but  the  idea  of  my  playing  the 
escort  to  two  gallant  English  chevaliers,  both  d’age  mur , is 
too  ridiculous.  However,  n'  importe  ! I will  endeavour  to 
defend  you,  though  against  a whole  army  ! ” 

The  thing  unquestionably  did  look  absurd,  and  I could 
not  restrain  myself  from  joining  in  the  laugh.  Sir  Francis, 
too,  became  infected,  and  we  made  a regular  chorus  of  it, 
after  which  the  gay  Frenchwoman  resumed  : 

“ But  surely,  Sir  Francis,  you  pay  the  French  a great  com- 
pliment ; for  you  have  often  told  me  how  you  alone  used  to 
put  to  flight  whole  troops  of  rebels  in  your  own  country,  and 
take  entire  companies  with  your  single  hand  ! ” 

Champagne  was  now  introduced,  and  Sir  Francis  and  I 
having  each  taken  a glass  or  two,  at  the  lady's  suggestion,  to 
keep  up  our  courage,  we  sallied  out  in  search  of  adventures 
to  the  Champ  de  Mars.  The  sentinel  at  the  entrance  de- 
murred a little  on  our  presenting  ourselves  ; but  our  fair 
companion,  with  admirable  presence  of  mind,  put  it  to  his 
gallantry  not  to  refuse  admittance  to  a lady,  and  the  polite 
soldier,  with  very  good  grace,  permitted  us  to  pass.  Once 
fairly  inside,  we  strolled  about  for  above  two  hours,  not  only 
unmolested,  but  absolutely  unnoticed,  although  I cannot  say 
I felt  perfectly  at  ease.  It  is  certain  that  the  presence  of 
the  female  protected  us.  The  respect  paid  to  women  by  the 
French  soldiery  is  apparent  at  all  their  meetings,  whether  for 
conviviality  or  service  ; and  I have  seen  as  much  decorum 
preserved  in  an  alehouse  festivity  at  Paris  as  at  the  far-famed 
Almack’s  in  London. 

The  scene  within  the  barrier  must  have  appeared  curious 
to  any  Englishman.  The  troops  had  been  about  an  hour  on 
the  ground  after  fighting  all  the  evening  in  the  village  of 
Issy  ; the  cavalry  had  not  engaged,  and  their  horses  were 


BATTLE  OF  SEVRES  AND  ISSY. 


463 


picketed.  The  soldiers  had  got  in  all  directions  tubs  of 
water,  and  were  washing  their  hands  and  faces,  which  had 
been  covered  with  dirt,  their  mouths  being  quite  blackened 
by  the  cartridges.  In  a little  time  everything  was  arranged 
for  a merrymaking  : some  took  off  their  coats,  to  dance  the 
lighter  ; the  bands  played  ; an  immense  number  of  women 
of  all  descriptions  had  come  to  welcome  them  back  ; and  in 
half  an  hour  after  we  arrived  there  some  hundred 
couples  were  at  the  quadrilles  and  waltzes,  as  if  nothing  had 
occurred  to  disturb  their  tranquillity.  It  appeared,  in  fact, 
as  if  they  had  not  only  totally  forgotten  what  had  passed 
that  day,  but  cared  not  a sou  as  to  what  might  happen  the 
next. 

Old  women,  with  frying-pans  strapped  before  them,  were 
incessantly  frying  sliced  potatoes,  livers,  and  bacon.  We 
tasted  some  of  these  dainties,  and  found  them  really  quite 
savoury.  Some  soldiers,  who  were  tired  or  perhaps  slightly 
hurt,  were  sitting  in  the  fosses  cooking  soup,  and  together 
with  the  vendors  of  bottled  beer,  etc.,  stationed  on  the 
qlevated  banks,  gave  the  whole  a picturesque  appearance.  I 
saw  a very  few  men  who  had  rags  tied  round  their  heads  ; 
some  who  limped  a little,  and  others  who  had  their  hands 
in  slings  ; but  nobody  seemed  to  regard  these,  or  indeed 
anything  except  their  own  pleasure.  The  wounded  had 
been  carried  to  hospitals,  and  I suppose  the  dead  were  left 
on  the  ground  for  the  night.  The  guards  mounted  at  the 
Champ  de  Mars  were  all  fresh  troops. 

There  were  few  circumstances  attending  that  memorable 
era  which  struck  me  more  forcibly  than  the  miserable  con- 
dition of  those  groups  of  fugitives  who  continued  every  hour 
arriving  in  Paris  during  the  few  days  immediately  succeeding 
their  signal  discomfiture  at  Waterloo.  These  unfortunate 
stragglers  arrived  in  parties  of  two,  three,  or  four,  and  in  a 
state  of  utter  destitution — most  of  them  without  arms,  many 
without  shoes,  and  some  almost  naked.  A great  proportion 


464 


BARRINGTON’S  RECOLLECTIONS. 


of  them  were  wounded  and  bandaged  ; they  had  scarcely 
rested  at  all  on  their  return  ; in  short,  I never  beheld  such 
pitiable  figures. 

One  of  these  unfortunate  men  struck  me  forcibly  one 
evening  as  an  object  of  interest  and  compassion.  He  was 
limping  along  the  Boulevard  Italien  ; his  destination  I knew 
not.  He  looked  elderly,  but  had  evidently  been  one  of  the 
finest  men  I ever  saw,  and  attached,  I rather  think,  to  the 
Imperial  Guard.  His  shoes  were  worn  out  ; his  clothes  in 
rags  ; scanty  hairs  were  the  only  covering  of  his  head  ; one 
arm  was  bandaged  up  with  a bloody  rag,  and  slung  from  his 
neck  by  a string  ; his  right  thigh  and  leg  were  also  bandaged, 
and  he  seemed  to  move  with  pain  and  difficulty. 

Such  figures  were,  it  is  true,  so  common  during  that  period 
that  nobody  paid  them  much  attention  ; this  man,  however, 
somehow  or  other,  interested  me  peculiarly.  It  was  said 
that  he  was  going  to  the  Hotel  Dieu,  where  he  would  be 
taken  good  care  of  ; but  I felt  greatly  for  the  old  warrior, 
and  crossing  the  street,  put,  without  saying  a word,  a dollar 
into  his  yellow  and  trembling  hand. 

He  stopped,  looked  at  me  attentively,  then  at  the  dollar  ; 
and  appearing  doubtful  whether  or  no  he  ought  to  receive 
it,  said  with  an  emphatic  tone,  “ Not  for  charity  ! ” 

I saw  his  pride  was  kindled,  and  replied,  “ No,  my  friend, 
in  respect  to  your  bravery  ! ” and  I was  walking  away  when  I 
heard  his  voice  exclaiming,  “ Monsieur,  Monsieur  ! ” I 
turned,  and  as  he  hobbled  up  to  me  he  surveyed  me  in 
silence  from  head  to  foot  ; then,  looking  earnestly  in  my 
face,  he  held  out  his  hand  with  the  dollar  : “ Excuse  me, 
Monsieur,”  said  he  in  a firm  and  rather  proud  tone,  “ you 
are  an  Englishman,  and  I cannot  receive  bounty  from  the 
enemy  of  my  emperor.” 

Good  God  ! thought  I,  what  a man  must  Napoleon  have 
been  ! This  incident  alone  affords  a key  to  all  his  victories. 


CAPITULATION  OF  PARIS. 


465 


CHAPTER  LII. 

CAPITULATION  OF  PARIS. 

The  rapid  succession  of  these  extraordinary  events  bore 
to  me  the  character  of  some  optical  delusion,  and  my 
mind  was  settling  into  a train  of  reflections  on  the  past 
and  conjectures  as  to  the  future,  when  Fouche  capitu- 
lated for  Paris  and  gave  up  France  to  the  discretion 
of  its  enemies.  In  a few  hours  after  I saw  that 
enthusiastic,  nay,  that  half-frantic,  army  of  Villette  (in 
the  midst  of  which  I had  an  opportunity  of  witness- 
ing a devotion  to  its  chief  which  no  defeat  could  diminish) 
on  the  point  of  total  annihilation.  I saw  the  troops, 
sad  and  crestfallen,  marching  out  of  Paris  to  con- 
summate behind  the  Loire  the  fall  of  France  as  a war- 
like kingdom.  With  arms  still  in  their  hands,  with 
a great  park  of  artillery,  and  commanded  by  able  generals, 
yet  were  they  constrained  to  turn  their  backs  on  their 
metropolis,  abandoning  it  to  the  “ tender  mercies  ” 
of  the  Russian  Cossacks,  whom  they  had  so  often  con- 
quered. 

I saw  likewise  that  most  accomplished  of  traitors,  Fouche, 
Duke  of  Otranto,  who  had  with  impunity  betrayed  his  patron 
and  his  master,  betraying,  in  their  turn,  his  own  tools  and 
instruments,  signing  lists  of  proscription  for  the  death  or 
exile  of  those  whose  ill  fortune  or  worse  principle  had 
rendered  them  his  dupes,  and  thus  confirming,  in  my  mind, 
the  scepticism  as  to  men  and  measures  which  had  long  been 
growing  on  me. 

The  only  political  point  I fancy  at  present  that  I can  see 

(D311).  m 


466 


Barrington’s  recollections. 


any  certainty  in  is,  that  the  French  nation  is  not  mad  enough 
to  hazard  lightly  a fresh  war  with  England.  The  highest 
flown  ultras,  even  the  Jesuits  themselves,  cannot  forget  that 
to  the  inexhaustible  perseverance  of  the  United  Kingdom  is 
mainly  attributable  the  present  political  condition  of  Europe. 
The  people  of  France  may  not,  it  is  true,  owe  us  much  grati- 
tude, but  considering  that  we  transmitted  both  his  present 
and  his  late  Majesty  safely  from  exile  here  to  their  exalted 
station  amongst  the  potentates  of  Europe,  I do  hope,  for  the 
honour  of  our  common  nature,  that  the  Government  of  that 
country  would  not  willingly  turn  the  weapons  which  zoe  put 
into  their  hands  against  ourselves.  If  they  should,  however, 
it  is  not  too  much  to  add,  bearing  in  mind  what  we  have 
successfully  coped  with,  that  their  hostility  would  be  as 
ineffectual  as  ungrateful.  And  here  I cannot  abstain  from 
briefly  congratulating  my  fellow-countrymen  on  the  manly 
and  encouraging  exposition  of  our  national  power  recently 
put  forth  by  Mr.  Canning  in  the  House  of  Commons.  Let 
them  rest  assured  that  it  has  been  felt  by  every  cabinet  in 
Europe,  even  to  its  core.  The  Holy  Alliance  has  dwindled 
into  comparative  insignificance,  and  Great  Britain,  under  an 
energetic  and  liberal-minded  administration,  re-assumes  that 
influence  to  which  she  is  justly  entitled,  as  one  in  the  first 
order  of  European  empires. 

To  return.  The  conduct  of  the  allies  after  their  occupa- 
tion of  Paris  was  undoubtedly  strange,  to  say  the  least  of  it, 
and  nothing  could  be  more  inconsistent  than  that  of  the 
populace  on  the  return  of  King  Louis.  That  Paris  was 
betrayed  is  certain,  and  that  the  article  of  capitulation  which 
provided  that  “ wherever  doubts  existed,  the  construction 
should  be  in  favour  of  the  Parisians,”  was  not  adhered  to,  is 
equally  so.  It  was  never  in  contemplation,  for  instance,  that 
the  capital  was  to  be  rifled  of  all  the  monuments  of  art  and 
antiquity  whereof  she  had  become  possessed  by  right  of 
conquest.  A reclamation  of  the  great  mortar  in  St.  James’s 


CAPITULATION  OF  PARIS. 


467 


Park,  or  of  the  throne  of  the  King  of  Ceylon,  would  have 
just  as  much  appearance  of  fairness  as  that  of  Apollo  by  the 
Pope,  and  Venus  by  the  Grand  Duke  of  Tuscany.  What 
preposterous  affectation  of  justice  was  there  in  employing 
British  engineers  to  take  down  the  brazen  horses  of  Alexander 
the  Great  in  order  that  they  may  be  re-erected  in  St.  Mark’s 
Place  at  Venice,  a city  to  which  the  Austrian  Emperor  had 
no  more  equitable  a claim  than  we  have  to  Vienna  ! I 
always  was,  and  still  remain  to  be,  decidedly  of  opinion  that 
by  giving  our  aid  in  emptying  the  Louvre,  we  authorised  not 
only  an  act  of  unfairness  to  the  French,  but  of  impolicy  as 
concerned  ourselves,  since  by  so  doing,  we  have  removed 
beyond  the  reach  of  the  great  majority  of  British  artists  and 
students  the  finest  models  of  sculpture  and  of  painting  this 
world  has  produced. 

When  this  step  was  first  determined  on,  the  Prussians 
began  with  moderation — they  rather  smuggled  away  than 
openly  stole  fourteen  paintings  ; but  no  sooner  was  this 
rifling  purpose  generally  made  known,  than  his  Holiness  the 
Pope  was  all  anxiety  to  have  his  gods  again  locked  up  in  the 
dusty  store-rooms  of  the  Vatican  ! The  Parisians  now  took 
fire.  They  remonstrated  and  protested  against  this  infringe- 
ment of  the  treaty,  and  a portion  of  the  National  Guards 
stoutly  declared  that  they  would  defend  the  gallery  ! But  the 
king  loved  the  Pope’s  toe  better  than  all  the  works  of  art 
ever  achieved  ; and  the  German  autocrat  being  also  a de- 
voted friend  of  St.  Peter’s  (whilst  at  the  same  time  he  lusted 
after  the  “ brazen  images  ”),  the  assenting  fiat  was  given. 
Wishing,  however,  to  throw  the  stigma  from  the  shoulders 
of  Catholic  monarchs  upon  those  of  Protestant  soldiers, 
these  wily  allies  determined  that,  although  England  was  not 
to  share  the  spoil,  she  should  bear  the  trouble,  and,  therefore, 
threatened  the  National  Guards  with  a regiment  of  Scotch- 
men, which  threat  produced  the  desired  effect. 

Now  it  may  be  said  that  the  “ right  of  conquest  ” is  as 


468 


BARRINGTON  S RECOLLECTIONS. 


strong  on  one  side  as  on  the  other,  and  justifies  the  reclama- 
tion as  fully  as  it  did  the  original  capture  of  these  chef- 
d’ oeuvres,  to  which  plausible  argument  I oppose  two  words, 
the  treaty  ! the  treaty  ! Besides,  if  the  right  of  conquest  is 
to  decide,  then  I fearlessly  advance  the  claim  of  Great 
Britain,  who  was  the  principal  agent  in  winning  the  prize 
at  Waterloo,  and  had,  therefore,  surely  a right  to  wear  at 
least  some  portion  of  it,  but  who,  nevertheless,  stood  by  and 
sanctioned  the  injustice,  although  she  had  too  high  a moral 
sense  to  participate  in  it.  What  will  my  fellow-countrymen 
say  when  they  hear  that  the  liberal  motive  which  served  to 
counterbalance  in  the  minds  of  the  British  ministry  of  that 
day  the  solid  advantages  resulting  from  the  retention  of  the 
works  of  art  at  Paris  was  a jealousy  of  suffering  the  French 
capital  to  remain  “ the  Athens  of  Europe  ! ” 

The  farce  played  off  between  the  French  king  and  the 
allies  was  supremely  ridiculous.  The  Cossacks  bivouacked 
in  the  square  of  the  Carousel  before  his  majesty’s  windows, 
and  soldiers  dried  their  shirts  and  trousers  on  the  iron  rail- 
ings of  the  palace.  This  was  a nuisance  ; and  for  the 
purpose  of  abating  it  three  pieces  of  ordnance,  duly  loaded, 
with  a gunner  and  ready-lighted  match,  were  stationed  day 
and  night  upon  the  quay,  and  pointed  directly  at  his 
majesty's  drawing-room , so  that  one  salvo  would  have  de- 
spatched the  most  Christian  king  and  all  his  august  family 
to  the  genuine  Champs  Elysees.  This  was  carrying  the  jest 
rather  too  far,  and  every  rational  man  in  Paris  was  shaking 
his  sides  at  so  shallow  a manoeuvre,  when  a new  object 
of  derision  appeared  in  shape  of  a letter  purporting  to  be 
written  by  King  Louis,  expressing  his  wish  that  he  were 
young  and  active  enough  (who  would  doubt  his  wish  to  grow 
young  again  ? ) to  put  himself  at  the  head  of  his  own  army, 
attack  his  puissant  allies,  and  cut  them  all  to  pieces  for  their 
duplicity  to  his  loving  and  beloved  subjects. 

A copy  of  this  letter  was  given  me  by  a colonel  of  the 


CAPITULATION  OF  PARIS.  469 

National  Guards,  who  said  that  it  was  circulated  by  the 
highest  authority. 

“ Lettre  du  Roi  au  Prince  Talleyrand. 

“ Du  22  Juillet,  1815. 

“ La  conduite  des  armees  alliees  reduira  bientot  mon 
peuple  a s’armer  contre  elles,  comme  on  a fait  en  Espagne: 
“ Plus  jeune,  je  me  mettrais  a sa  tete  ; mais,  si  Page  et  mes 
infirmites  m’en  empechent,  je  ne  veux  pas,  au  moins, 
paroitre  conniver  a des  mesures  dont  je  gemis  ! je  suis  resolu, 
si  je  ne  puis  les  adoucir,  a demander  asile  au  roi  d’Espagne. 

“ Que  ceux  qui,  meme  apres  la  capture  de  l’homme  a qui 
ils  ont  declare  la  guerre,  continuent  a traiter  mon  peuple  en 
ennemi,  et  doivent  par  consequent  me  regarder  comme  tel, 
attentent  s’ils  le  veulent  a ma  liberte  ! ils  en  sont  les  maitres  ! 
j’aime  mieux  vivre  dans  ma  prison  que  de  rester  ici,  temoin 
passif  des  pleurs  de  mes  enfans.” 

But  to  close  the  scene  of  his  majesty's  gallantry,  and 
anxiety  to  preserve  the  capitulation  entire.  After  he  had 
permitted  the  plunder  of  the  Louvre  a report  was  circulated 
that  Blucher  had  determined  to  send  all  considerations  of 
the  treaty  to  the  d — , and  with  his  soldiers  to  blow  up 
the  Pont  de  Jena , as  the  existence  of  a bridge  so  named  was 
an  insult  to  the  victorious  Prussians  ! This  was,  it  must  be 
admitted,  sufficiently  in  character  with  Blucher  ; but  some 
people  were  so  fastidious  as  to  assert  that  it  was  in  fact  only 
a clap-trap  on  behalf  of  his  most  Christian  Majesty  ; and 
true  it  was,  the  next  day  copies  of  a very  dignified  and 
gallant  letter  from  Louis  XVIII.  were  circulated  extensively 
throughout  Paris.  The  purport  of  this  royal  epistle  was  not 
remonstrance , that  would  have  been  merely  considered  as 
matter  of  course.  It  demanded  that  Marshal  Blucher 
should  inform  his  majesty  of  the  precise  moment  the  bridge 
was  to  be  so  blown  up,  as  his  majesty,  having  no  power  of 
resistance,  was  determined  to  go  in  person,  stand  upon  the 
bridge  at  the  time  of  the  explosion,  and  mount  into  the  air 


470 


Barrington’s  recollections. 


amidst  the  stones  and  mortar  of  his  beautiful  piece  of  archi- 
tecture ! No  doubt  it  would  have  been  a sublime  termination 
of  so  sine  cvra  a reign,  and  would  have  done  more  to  immor- 
talise the  Bourbon  dynasty  than  anything  they  seem  at  pre- 
sent likely  to  accomplish  ! 

However,  Blucher  frustrated  that  gallant  achievement,  as 
he  did  many  others,  and  declared,  in  reply,  that  he  would 
not  singe  a hair  of  his  majesty’s  head  for  the  pleasure  of 
blowing  up  a hundred  bridges  ! 


THE  CATACOMBS  AND  P ERE  LA  CHAISE. 


471 


CHAPTER  LIII. 

THE  CATACOMBS  AND  PERE  LA  CHAISE. 

The  stupendous  catacombs  of  Paris  form  perhaps  the  greatest 
curiosity  of  that  capital.  I have  seen  many  well-written 
descriptions  of  this  magazine  of  human  fragments,  yet  on 
actually  visiting  it  my  sensations  of  awe,  and,  I may  add,  of 
disgust,  exceeded  my  anticipation. 

I found  myself,  after  descending  to  a considerable  depth 
from  the  light  of  day,  among  winding  vaults,  where  ranged 
on  either  side  are  the  trophies  of  Death’s  univeral  conquest. 
Myriads  of  grim,  fleshless,  grinning  visages  seem,  even 
through  their  eyeless  sockets,  to  stare  at  the  passing  mortals 
who  have  succeeded  them,  and  ready  with  long  knotted 
fingers  to  grasp  the  living  into  their  own  society.  On  turn- 
ing away  from  these  hideous  objects  my  sight  was  arrested 
by  innumerable  white  scalpless  skulls  and  mouldering  limbs 
of  disjointed  skeletons,  mingled  and  misplaced  in  terrific 
pyramids  ; or,  as  if  in  mockery  of  nature,  framed  into 
mosaics  and  piled  into  walls  and  barriers  ! 

There  are  men  of  nerve  strong  enough  to  endure  the  con- 
templation of  such  things  without  shrinking.  I participate 
not  in  this  apathetic  mood.  Almost  at  the  first  step  which 
I took  between  these  ghastly  ranks  in  the  deep  catacomb 
d’Enfer,  whereinto  I had  plunged  by  a descent  of  ninety 
steps,  my  spirit  no  longer  remained  buoyant  ; it  felt  subdued 
and  cowed  ; my  feet  reluctantly  advanced  through  the 
gloomy  mazes,  and  at  length  a universal  thrill  of  horror 
crawded  along  the  surface  of  my  flesh.  It  would  have  been 
to  little  purpose  to  protract  this  struggle  and  force  my  will 
to  obedience  ; I,  therefore,  instinctively  as  it  were,  made  a 
retrograde  movement ; I ascended  into  the  world  again,  and 


472 


Barrington’s  recollections. 


left  my  less  sensitive  and  wiser  friends  to  explore  at  leisure 
those  dreary  regions.  And  never  did  the  sun  appear  to  me 
more  bright  ; never  did  I feel  his  rays  more  cheering  and 
genial,  than  as  I emerged  from  the  melancholy  catacombs 
into  the  open  air. 

The  visitor  of  Paris  will  find  it  both  curious  and  interesting 
to  contrast  with  these  another  receptacle  for  the  dead,  the 
cemetery  of  Pere  la  Chaise.  It  is  strange  that  there  should 
exist  amongst  the  same  people,  in  the  same  city,  and  almost 
in  the  same  vicinity,  two  Golgothas  in  their  nature  so  utterly 
dissimilar  and  repugnant  from  each  other. 

The  soft  and  beautiful  features  of  landscape  which  char- 
acterise Pere  la  Chaise  are  scarcely  describable.  So  har- 
moniously are  they  blended  together,  so  sacred  does  the 
spot  appear  to  quiet  contemplation  and  hopeful  repose, 
that  it  seems  almost  profanation  to  attempt  to  submit  its 
charms  in  detail  before  the  reader’s  eye.  All,  in  fact, 
that  I had  ever  read  about  it  fell,  as  in  the  case  of  the 
catacombs — “ alike,  but  ah,  how  different ! ” — far  short  of 
the  reality. 

I have  wandered  whole  mornings  together  over  its  winding 
paths  and  venerable  avenues.  Here  are  no  “ ninety  steps  ” 
of  descent  to  gloom  and  horror  ; on  the  contrary,  a gradual 
ascent  leads  to  the  cemetery  of  Pere  la  Chaise,  and  to  its 
enchanting  summit,  on  every  side  shaded  by  brilliant  ever- 
greens. The  straight  lofty  cypress  and  spreading  cedar 
uplift  themselves  around,  and  the  arbutus  exposing  all  its 
treasure  of  deceptive  berries.  In  lieu  of  the  damp  moulder- 
ing scent  exhaled  by  three  millions  of  human  skeletons  we 
are  presented  with  the  fragrant  perfume  of  jessamines  and 
of  myrtles,  of  violet-beds  or  variegated  flower-plats  decked 
out  by  the  ministering  hand  of  love  or  duty — as  if  benignant 
nature  had  spread  her  most  splendid  carpet  to  cover,  con- 
ceal, and  render  alluring  even  the  abode  of  death. 

Whichever  way  we  turn  the  labours  of  art  combine  with 


THE  CATACOMBS  AND  PERE  LA  CHAISE. 


473 


the  luxuriance  of  vegetation  to  raise  in  the  mind  new  reflec- 
tions. Marble  in  all  its  varieties  of  shade  and  grain  is 
wrought  by  the  hand  of  man  into  numerous  bewitching 
shapes  ; whilst  one  of  the  most  brilliant  and  cheerful  cities 
in  the  universe  seems  to  lie,  with  its  wooded  boulevards, 
gilded  domes,  palaces,  gardens,  and  glittering  waters  just 
beneath  our  feet.  One  sepulchre  alone,  of  a decidedly 
mournful  character,  attracted  my  notice — a large  and  solid 
mausoleum,  buried  amidst  gloomy  yews  and  low  drooping 
willows,  and  this  looked  only  like  a patch  on  the  face  of 
loveliness.  Pere  la  Chaise  presents  a solitary  instance  of 
the  abode  of  the  dead  ever  interesting  me  in  an  agree- 
able way. 

I will  not  remark  on  the  well-known  tomb  of  Abelard  and 
Eloisa  ; a hundred  pens  have  anticipated  me  in  most  of  the 
observations  I should  be  inclined  to  make  respecting  that 
celebrated  couple.  The  most  obvious  circumstance  in  their 
“ sad  story  ” always  struck  me  as  being — that  he  turned 
priest  when  he  was  good  for  nothing  else,  and  she  became 
“ quite  correct  ” when  opportunities  for  the  reverse  began  to 
slacken.  They  no  doubt  were  properly  qualified  to  make 
very  repectable  saints  ; but  since  they  took  care  previously 
to  have  their  fling,  I cannot  say  much  for  their  morality. 

I am  not  sure  that  a burial  place  similar  to  Pere  la  Chaise 
would  be  admired  in  England.  It  is  almost  of  too  pic- 
turesque and  sentimental  a character.  The  humbler  orders 
of  the  English  people  are  too  coarse  to  appreciate  the  peculiar 
feeling  such  a cemetery  is  calculated  to  excite,  the  higher 
orders  too  licentious,  the  trading  classes  too  avaricious. 
The  plum-holder  of  the  city  would  very  honestly  and 
frankly  “ d — n all  your  nonsensical  sentiment  ! ” I 
heard  one  of  these  gentlemen  last  year  declare  that  what 
poets  and  such  like  called  sentiment  was  neither  more  nor  less 
than  deadly  poison  to  the  Protestant  religion  ! 


*t/4 


BARKING  ION  'S  RBCOBLiiCilONt). 


CHAPTER  LIV. 

PEDIGREE  HUNTING. 

My  visit  to  France  enabled  me,  besides  gratifying  myself  by 
the  sight  and  observation  of  the  distinguished  characters  of 
whom  I have  in  the  sketches  immediately  foregoing  made 
mention,  to  pursue  an  inquiry  that  I had  set  on  foot  some 
time  previously  in  my  own  country. 

As  I have  already  informed  the  reader  in  the  commence- 
ment of  this  work,  I was  brought  up  among  a sort  of  demo- 
cratic aristocracy  which,  like  the  race  of  wolf-dogs,  seems  to 
be  extinct  in  Ireland.  The  gentry  of  those  days  took  the 
greatest  care  to  trace  and  to  preserve  by  tradition  the  pedi- 
gree of  their  families  and  the  exploits  of  their  ancestors. 

It  is  said  that  “ he  must  be  a wise  man  who  knows  his 
own  father  ” ; but  if  there  are  thirty  or  forty  of  one’s  fore- 
fathers to  make  out,  it  must  necessarily  be  a research  rather 
difficult  for  ordinary  capacities.  Such  are,  therefore,  in  the 
habit  of  resorting  to  a person  who  obtains  his  livelihood  by 
begetting  grandfathers  and  great-grandfathers  ad  infinitum 
— namely,  the  herald,  who,  without  much  tedious  research, 
can  in  these  commercial  days  furnish  any  private  gentleman, 
dealer,  or  chapman  with  as  beautifully  transcribed,  painted., 
and  gilt  a pedigree  as  he  chooses  to  be  at  the  expense  of 
purchasing,  with  arms,  crests,  and  mottoes  to  match  ; nor 
are  there  among  the  nobility  themselves  emblazonments 
more  gaudy  than  may  occasionally  be  seen  upon  the  tilbury 
of  some  retired  tailor,  whose  name  was  probably  selected  at 
random  by  the  nurse  of  a foundling  hospital. 

But  as  there  is,  I believe,  no  great  mob  of  persons  bearing 
my  name  in  existence,  and  as  it  is  pretty  well  known  to  be 
rather  old,  I fancied  I would  pay  a visit  to  our  Irish  herald- 


PEDIGREE  HUNTING. 


475 


at-arms,  to  find  out,  if  possible,  from  what  country  I origin- 
ally sprang.  After  having  consulted  everything  he  had  to 
consult,  this  worthy  functionary  only  brought  me  back  to 
Queen  Elizabeth,  which  was  doing  nothing,  as  it  was  that 
virgin  monarch  who  had  made  the  first  territorial  grant  to  my 
family  in  Ireland,  with  liberty  to  return  two  members  to 
every  future  Parliament,  which  they  actually  did  down  to 
my  father’s  time. 

The  Irish  herald  most  honourably  assured  me  that  he 
could  not  carry  me  one  inch  farther,  and  so  (having  painted 
a most  beautiful  pedigree)  he  recommended  me  to  the 
English  herald-at-arms,  who,  he  had  no  doubt,  could  take 
up  the  thread  and  unravel  it  to  my  satisfaction. 

I accordingly  took  the  first  opportunity  of  consulting  this 
fresh  oracle,  whose  minister  having  politely  heard  my  case, 
transferred  it  to  writing,  screwed  up  his  lips,  and  looked 
steadfastly  at  the  ceiling  for  some  five  minutes.  He  then 
began  to  reckon  centuries  on  his  fingers,  took  down  several 
large  books  full  of  emblazonments,  nodded  his  head,  and  at 
last,  cleverly  and  scientifically  taking  me  up  from  the  times 
of  Queen  Elizabeth,  where  I had  been  abruptly  dropped  by 
my  fellow-countryman,  delivered  me  in  less  than  a fortnight 
as  handsome  a genealogical  tree  as  could  be  reasonably 
desired.  On  this  I triumphantly  ascended  to  the  reign  of 
William  the  Conqueror  and  the  battle  of  blastings,  at  which 
some  of  my  ancestors  were,  it  appears,  fairly  sped,  and  pro- 
vided with  neat  lodgings  in  Battle  Abbey,  where,  for  aught  I 
know  to  the  contrary,  they  still  remain. 

The  English  herald-at-arms  also  informed  me  (but  rather 
mysteriously)  that  it  was  probable  I had  a right  to  put  a 
French  De  at  the  beginning  of  my  name,  as  there  was  a 
Norman  ton  at  the  end  of  it  ; but  that,  as  he  did  not  profess 
French  heraldry,  I had  better  inquire  further  from  some  of 
the  craft  in  Normandy,  where  that  science  had  at  the  period 
of  the  crusades  greatly  flourished — William  the  Conqueror, 


476  Barrington’s  recollections. 

at  the  time  he  was  denominated  the  Bastard , having  by  all 
accounts  established  a very  celebrated  heraldic  college  at 
Rouen. 

I was  much  pleased  with  his  candour  ; and  thus  the  matter 
rested  until  Louis  XVIII.  returned  home  with  his  family, 
when,  as  the  reader  is  aware,  I likewise  passed  over  to  France 
with  mine. 

I did  not  forget  the  hint  given  me  by  my  armorial  friend 
in  London  ; and,  in  order  to  benefit  by  it,  repaired,  as  soon 
as  circumstanecs  permitted,  to  Rouen,  in  which  town  we  had 
been  advised  to  place  our  two  youngest  daughters,  for  pur- 
poses of  education,  at  a celebrated  Ursuline  convent,  the 
abbess  whereof  was  considered  a more  tolerating  religieuse 
than  any  of  her  contemporaries.  Before  I proceed  to  detail 
the  sequel  of  my  heraldic  investigations,  I will  lay  before 
the  reader  one  or  two  anecdotes  connected  with  French 
nunneries.  ^ 

The  abbess  of  the  convent  in  question,  Madame  Cousin, 
was  a fine,  handsome  old  nun,  as  affable  and  insinuating  as 
possible,  and  gained  on  us  at  first  sight.  She  enlarged  on 
the  great  advantages  of  her  system,  and  shewed  us  long 
galleries  of  beautiful  little  bed-chambers,  together  with  gar- 
dens overlooking  the  boulevards,  and  adorned  by  that  inter- 
esting tower  wherein  Jeanne  d’Arc  was  so  long  confined 
previously  to  her  martyrdom.  Her  table,  Madame  Cousin 
assured  us,  was  excellent  and  abundant. 

I was  naturally  impressed  with  an  idea  that  a nun  feared 
God  at  any  rate  too  much  to  tell  twenty  direct  falsehoods 
and  practise  twenty  deceptions  in  the  course  of  half  an  hour 
for  the  lucre  of  fifty  Napoleons,  which  she  required  in  ad- 
vance, without  the  least  intention  of  giving  the  value  of  five 
for  them  ; and  under  this  impression  I paid  down  the  sum 
demanded,  gave  up  our  two  children  to  Madame  Cousin’s 
motherly  tutelage,  and  returned  to  the  Hotel  de  France 
almost  in  love  with  the  old  abbess. 


PEDIGREE  HUNTING. 


477 


On  our  return  to  Paris  we  received  letters  from  my 
daughters,  giving  a most  flattering  account  of  the  convent 
generally,  of  the  excellence  of  Madame  PAbbesse,  the  plenty 
of  good  food,  the  comfort  of  the  bed-rooms,  and  the  extra- 
ordinary progress  they  were  making  in  their  several  acquire- 
ments. I was  hence  induced  to  commence  the  second  half- 
year,  also  in  advance,  when  a son-in-law  of  mine,  calling  to 
see  my  daughters,  requested  the  eldest  to  dine  with  him  at 
his  hotel,  which  request  was  long  resisted  by  the  abbess,  and 
only  granted  at  length  with  manifest  reluctance.  When 
arrived  at  the  hotel  the  poor  girl  related  a tale  of  a very 
different  description  from  the  foregoing,  and  as  piteous  as 
unexpected.  Her  letters  had  been  dictated  to  her  by  a 
priest.  I had  scarcely  arrived  at  Paris  when  my  children 
were  separated,  turned  away  from  the  show  bed-rooms,  and 
allowed  to  speak  any  language  to  each  other  only  one  hour  a 
day,  and  not  a word  on  Sundays.  The  eldest  was  urged  to 
turn  Catholic  ; and,  above  all,  they  were  fed  in  a manner  at 
once  so  scanty  and  so  bad  that  my  daughter  begged  hard 
not  to  be  taken  back,  but  to  accompany  her  brother-in-law 
to  Paris.  This  was  conceded,  and  when  the  poor  child 
arrived  I saw  the  necessity  of  immediately  recalling  her 
sister.  I was  indeed  shocked  at  seeing  her — so  wan,  and 
thin,  and  greedy  did  she  appear. 

On  our  first  inquiry  for  the  convent  above  alluded  to,  we 
were  directed  by  mistake  to  another  establishment  belonging 
to  the  saint  of  the  same  name,  but  bearing  a very  inferior 
appearance,  and  superintended  by  an  abbess  whose  toleration 
certainly  erred  not  on  the  side  of  laxity.  We  saw  the  old 
lady  within  her  grated  lattice.  She  would  not  come  out  to 
us  ; but  on  being  told  our  business,  smiled  as  cheerfully  as 
fanaticism  would  let  her.  (I  daresay  the  expected  pension 
already  jingled  in  her  glowing  fancy.)  Our  terms  were  soon 
concluded,  and  everything  was  arranged,  when  Lady 
Barrington,  as  a final  direction,  requested  that  the  children 


478 


Barrington’s  recollections. 


should  not  be  called  too  early  in  the  morning,  as  they  were 
unused  to  it.  The  old  abbess  started  ; a gloomy  doubt 
seemed  to  gather  on  her  furrowed  temples,  her  nostrils  dis- 
tended, and  she  abruptly  asked,  “ Netes-vous  pas  Catho- 
liques  ? ” 

‘Wo/2,”  replied  Lady  Barrington,  “ nous  sommes  Pro - 
testans” 

The  countenance  of  the  abbess  now  utterly  fell,  and  she 
shrieked  out,  “Mon  Dieu  ! alors  vous  etes  heretiques  ! Je  ne 
permets  jamais  d’heretique  dans  ce  convent  ! — allez  ! — allez  ! 
— vos  enfans  n’entrreont  jamais  dans  le  convent  des  Ursulines  ! 
— allez ! — allez ! ” and  instantly  crossing  herself,  and 
muttering,  she  withdrew  from  the  grate. 

Just  as  we  were  turned  out  we  encountered  near  the  gate 
a very  odd  though  respectable-looking  figure.  It  was  that 
of  a man  whose  stature  must  originally  have  exceeded  six 
feet,  and  who  was  yet  erect,  and  but  for  the  natural  shrink- 
ing of  age  retained  his  full  height  and  manly  presence.  His 
limbs  still  bore  him  gallantly,  and  the  frosts  of  eighty  winters 
had  not  yet  chilled  his  warmth  of  manner.  His  dress  was 
neither  neat  nor  shabby  ; it  was  of  silk — of  the  old  costume  ; 
his  thin  hair  wtis  loosely  tied  behind  ; and  on  the  wThole  he 
appeared  to  be  w hat  we  call  above  the  world. 

This  gentleman  saw  that  we  were  at  a loss  about  some- 
thing or  other  ; and  with  the  constitutional  politeness  of  a 
Frenchman  of  the  old  school,  at  once  begged  us  to  mention 
our  embarrassment  and  command  his  services.  Everybody, 
he  told  us,  knew  him,  and  he  knew  everybody  at  Rouen. 
We  accepted  his  offer,  and  he  immediately  constituted  him- 
self cicisbeo  to  the  ladies,  and  mentor  to  me.  After  having 
led  us  to  the  other  Convent  des  Ursulines , of  which  I have 
spoken,  he  dined  with  us,  and  I conceived  a great  respect 
for  the  old  gentleman.  It  was  Monsieur  Helliot,  once  a 
celebrated  avocat  of  the  Parliament  at  Rouen  ; his  good 
manners  and  good  nature  rendered  his  society  a real  treat  to 


PEDIGREE  HUNTING. 


479 


us  ; whilst  his  memory,  information,  and  activity  were 
almost  wonderful.  He  was  an  improvisaiore  poet,  and  could 
converse  in  rhyme  and  sing  a hundred  songs  of  his  own 
composing. 

On  my  informing  M.  Helliot  that  one  of  my  principal 
objects  at  Rouen  was  a research  in  heraldry,  he  said  he 
would  next  day  introduce  me  to  the  person  of  all  others 
most  likely  to  satisfy  me  on  that  point.  His  friend  was,  he 
told  me,  of  a noble  family,  and  had  originally  studied 
heraldry  for  his  amusement  ; but  was  subsequently  necessi- 
tated to  practise  it  for  pocket-money,  since  his  regular 
income  was  barely  sufficient  (as  was  then  the  average  with 
the  old  nobility  of  Normandy)  to  provide  him  soup  in 
plenty,  a room  and  a bed-recess,  a weekly  laundress,  and  a 
repairing  tailor.  “ Rouen,”  continued  the  old  advocate, 
“ requires  no  heralds  now  ! The  nobles  are  not  even  able 
to  emblazon  their  pedigrees,  and  the  manufacturers  purchase 
arms  and  crests  from  the  Paris  heralds,  who  have  always  a 
variety  of  magnificent  ones  to  dispose  of  suitable  to  their  newr 
customers.” 

M.  Helliot  had  a country  house  about  four  miles  from 
Rouen,  near  the  Commander y,  which  is  on  the  Seine — a 
beautiful  wild  spot,  formerly  the  property  of  the  Knights  of 
St.  John  of  Jerusalem.  Plelliot’s  house  had  a large  garden, 
ornamented  by  his  owrn  hands.  He  one  day  came  to  us  to 
beg  we  would  fix  a morning  for  taking  a dejeuner  a la  four - 
chette  at  his  cottage,  and  brought  with  him  a long  bill  of  fare 
(containing  nearly  everything  in  the  eating  and  drinking  way 
that  could  be  procured  at  Rouen),  whereon  he  requested  we 
would  mark  with  a pencil  our  favourite  dishes  ! He  said 
this  was  always  their  ancient  mode  when  they  had  the  honour 
of  a societe  distingue , and  we  were  obliged  to  humour  him. 
He  was  delighted  ; and  then  assuming  a more  serious  air — 
“ But,”  said  he,  “ I have  a very  particular  reason  for  inviting 
you  to  my  cottage  ; it  is  to  have  the  honour  of  introducing 


Barrington’s  recollections. 


480 

you  to  a lady  who,  old  as  I am,  has  consented  to  marry  me 
the  ensuing  spring.  I kno’w,”  added  he,  “ that  I shall  be 
happier  in  her  society  than  in  that  of  any  other  person,  and 
at  my  time  of  life  we  want  somebody  interested  in  rendering 
our  limited  existence  as  comfortable  as  possible.” 

This  seemed  ludicrous  enough,  and  the  ladies’  curiosity 
was  excited  to  see  old  Helliot’s  sweetheart.  We  were 
accordingly  punctual  to  our  hour.  He  had  a boat  ready  to 
take  us  across  the  Seine  near  the  Commandery,  and  we  soon 
entered  a beautiful  garden  in  a high  state  of  order.  In  the 
house  (a  small  and  very  old  one)  we  found  a most  excellent 
repast.  The  only  company  besides  ourselves  was  the  old 
herald  to  whom  M.  Helliot  had  introduced  me,  and  after  a 
few  minutes  he  led  from  an  inner  chamber  his  intended 
bride.  She  appeared,  in  point  of  years,  at  least  as  venerable 
as  the  bridegroom,  but  a droop  in  the  person  and  a waddle 
in  the  gait  bespoke  a constitution  much  more  enfeebled  than 
that  of  the  gallant  who  was  to  lead  her  to  the  altar.  “ This,” 
said  the  advocate,  as  he  presented  her  to  the  company,  “ is 
Madame  . . . .,  but  n'importe  ! after  our  repast  you  shall 
learn  her  name  and  history.  Pray,  madame,”  pursued  he 
with  an  air  of  infinite  politeness,  “ have  the  goodness  to  do 
the  honours  of  the  table  ” ; and  his  request  was  complied 
with  as  nimbly  as  his  inamorata’s  quivering  hands  would 
permit. 

The  wine  went  round  merrily  ; the  old  lady  declined  not 
her  glass  ; the  herald  took  enough  to  serve  him  for  the  two 
or  three  following  days  ; old  Helliot  hobnobbed  a la  mode 
Anglaise , and  in  half-an-hour  we  were  as  cheerful,  and,  I 
should  think,  as  curious  a breakfast  party  as  Upper  Nor- 
mandy had  ever  produced. 

When  the  repast  was  ended,  “ Now,”  said  our  host,  “ you 
shall  learn  the  history  of  this  venerable  bride  that  is  to  be  on 
or  about  the  15th  of  April  next.  You  know,”  continued  he, 
u that  between  the  age  of  seventy  and  death  the  distance  is 


PEDIGREE  HUNTING. 


481 


seldom  very  great,  and  that  a person  of  your  nation  who 
arrives  at  the  one  is  generally  fool  enough  to  be  always 
gazing  at  the  other.  Now,  we  Frenchmen  like,  if  possible, 
to  evade  the  prospect,  and  with  that  object  we  contrive 
some  new  event,  which  if  it  cannot  conceal,  may  at  least  take 
off  our  attention  from  it  ; and  of  all  things  in  the  world,  I 
believe  matrimony  will  be  admitted  to  be  most  effectual  either 
in  fixing  an  epoch  or  directing  a current  of  thought.  We 
antiquated  gentry  here,  therefore,  have  a little  law,  or  rather 
custom,  of  our  own,  namely,  that  after  a man  has  been  in  a 
state  of  matrimony  for  fifty  years,  if  his  charmer  survives, 
they  undergo  the  ceremony  of  a second  marriage,  and  so 
begin  a new  contract  for  another  half-century,  if  their  joint 
lives  so  long  continue  ! and  inasmuch  as  Madame  Helliot 
(introducing  the  old  lady  anew,  kissing  her  cheek,  and  chuck- 
ing her  under  the  chin)  has  been  now  forty-nine  years  and 
four  months  on  her  road  to  a second  husband,  the  day  that 
fifty  years  are  completed  we  shall  re-commence  our  honey- 
moon, and  every  friend  we  have  will,  I hope,  come  and  see 
the  happy  reunion.”  “ Ah  ! ” said  madame,  “ I fear  my 
bridesmaid,  Madame  Veuve  Gerard , can’t  hold  out  so  long  ! 
Mais , Dieu  merci ! ” cried  she,  “ I think  I shall  myself, 
Monsieur  (addressing  me),  be  well  enough  to  get  through 
the  ceremony.” 

I wish  I could  end  this  little  episode  as  my  heart  would 
dictate.  But,  alas  ! a cold  caught  by  my  friend  the  advocate 
boating  on  the  Seine  before  the  happy  month  arrived  pre- 
vented a ceremony  which  I would  have  gone  almost  any 
distance  to  witness.  Sic  transit  gloria  mundi  ! 

But  to  my  heraldic  investigation.  The  old  professor  with 
whom  M.  Helliot  had  made  me  acquainted  had  been  one  of 
the  ancienne  noblesse , and  carried  in  his  look  and  deportment 
evident  marks  of  the  rank  from  which  he  had  been  con- 
pelled  to  descend.  Although  younger  than  the  advocate,  he 
was  still  somewhat  stricken  in  years.  His  hair,  thin  and 

(D311)  11 


482 


BARRINGTON’S  RECOLLECTIONS. 


highly  powdered,  afforded  a queue  longer  than  a quill,  and 
nearly  as  bulky.  A tight  plaited  stock  and  solitaire , a 
tucker  and  ruffles,  and  a cross  with  the  order  of  St.  Louis,  a 
well-cleaned  black  suit,  which  had  survived  many  a cuff 
and  cape,  and  seen  many  a year  of  full-dress  service,  silk 
stockings,  paste  knee,  and  large  silver  shoe-buckles  completed 
his  toilet. 

He  said,  on  my  first  visit,  in  a desponding  voice,  that  he 
deeply  regretted  the  republicans  had  burned  most  of  his 
books  and  records  during  the  Revolution  ; and  having  con- 
sequently little  or  nothing  left  of  remote  times  to  refer  to,  he 
really  could  not  recollect  my  ancestors,  though  they  might 
perhaps  have  been  a very  superbe  famille.  On  exhibiting, 
however,  my  English  and  Irish  pedigrees  (drawn  out  on 
vellum,  beautifully  ornamented,  painted  and  gilt,  with  the 
chevalier’s  casquet,  three  scarlet  chevanels  and  a Saracen’s 
head,  and  touching  his  withered  hand  with  the  metallic 
tractors , the  old  herald’s  eyes  assumed  almost  a youthful 
fire  ; even  his  voice  seemed  to  change  ; and  having  put  the 
four  dollars  into  his  breeches-pocket,  buttoned  the  flap,  and 
then  felt  at  the  outside  to  make  sure  of  their  safety,  he  drew 
himself  up  with  pride — 

“ Between  this  city  and  Havre  de  Grace,”  said  he,  after  a 
pause,  and  having  traced  with  his  bony  fingers  the  best 
gilded  of  the  pedigrees,  “ lies  a town  called  Barentin,  and 
there  once  stood  the  superb  chateau  of  an  old  warrior,  Drogo 
de  Barentin.  At  this  town,  Monsieur,  you  will  assuredly 
obtain  some  account  of  your  noble  family.”  After  some 
conversation  about  William  the  Conqueror,  Duke  Rollo, 
Richard  Cceur  de  Lion,  etc.,  I took  my  leave,  determining 
to  start  with  all  convenient  speed  towards  Havre  de  Grace. 

On  the  road  to  that  place  I found  the  town  designated  by 
the  herald,  and  having  refreshed  myself  at  an  auberge,  set 
out  to  discover  the  ruins  of  the  castle,  which  lie  not  very  far 
distant.  Of  these,  however,  I could  make  nothing  ; and  on 


PEDIGREE  HUNTING. 


483 


returning  to  the  auberge,  I found  mine  host  decked  out  in 
his  best  jacket  and  a huge  opera-hat.  Having  made  this 
worthy  acquainted  with  the  object  of  my  researches,  he  told 
me,  with  a smiling  countenance,  that  there  was  a very  old 
beggar-man  extant  in  the  place  who  was  the  depositary  of  all 
the  circumstances  of  its  ancient  history,  including  that  of 
the  former  lords  of  the  castle.  Seeing  I had  no  chance  of 
better  information,  I ordered  my  dinner  to  be  prepared  in 
the  first  instance,  and  the  mendicant  to  be  served  up  with 
the  dessert. 

The  figure  which  presented  itself  really  struck  me.  His 
age  was  said  to  exceed  a hundred  years  ; his  beard  and  hair 
were  white,  whilst  the  ruddiness  of  youth  still  mantled  in  his 
cheeks.  I don't  know  how  it  was,  but  my  heart  and  purse 
opened  in  unison,  and  I gratified  the  old  beggar-man  with  a 
sum  which  I believe  he  had  not  often  seen  before  at  one 
time.  I then  directed  a glass  of  eau-de-vie  to  be  given  him, 
and  this  he  relished  even  more  than  the  money.  He  then 
launched  into  such  an  eulogium  on  the  noble  race  of  Drogo 
of  the  Chateau  that  I thought  he  never  would  come  to  the 
point,  and  when  he  did,  I received  but  little  satisfaction 
from  his  communications,  which  he  concluded  by  advising 
me  to  make  a voyage  to  the  Island  of  Jersey.  “ I knew,” 
said  he,  “ in  my  youth,  a man  much  older  than  I am  now, 
and  who,  like  me,  lived  upon  alms.  This  man  was  the  final 
descendant  of  the  Barentin  family,  being  an  illegitimate  son 
of  the  last  lord,  and  he  has  often  told  me  that  on  that  island 
his  father  had  been  murdered,  who  having  made  no  will,  his 
son  was  left  to  beg,  while  the  king  got  all,  and  bestowed  it 
on  some  young  lady.” 

This  whetted  my  appetite  for  further  intelligence,  and  I 
resolved,  having  fairly  engaged  in  it,  to  follow  up  the  inquiry. 
Accordingly,  in  the  spring  of  1816,  leaving  my  family  in 
Paris,  I set  out  for  St.  Maloes,  thence  to  Granville,  and  after 
a most  interesting  journey  through  Brittany,  crossed  over  in 


484  Barrington’s  recollections. 

a fishing-boat,  and  soon  found  myself  in  the  square  of  St. 
Helier’s,  at  Jersey.  I had  been  there  before  on  a visit  to 
General  Don,  with  General  Moore  and  Colonel  le  Blanc, 
and  knew  the  place,  but  this  time  I went  incog. 

On  my  first  visit  to  Jersey  I had  been  much  struck  with 
the  fine  situation  and  commanding  aspect  of  the  magnificent 
castle  of  Mont  Orgueil,  and  had  much  pleasure  in  anticipat- 
ing a fresh  survey  of  it.  But  guess  the  gratified  nature  of 
my  emotions  when  I learnt  from  an  old  warder  of  the  castle 
that  Drogo  de  Barentin,  a Norman  chieftain,  had  been  in 
fact  its  last  governor  ! that  his  name  was  on  its  records,  and 
that  he  had  lost  his  life  in  its  defence  on  the  outer  ramparts. 
He  left  no  lawful  male  offspring,  and  thus  the  Norman 
branch  of  the  family  had  become  extinct. 

This  I considered  as  making  good  progress,  and  I returned 
cheerfully  to  Barentin  to  thank  my  mendicant  and  his  patron, 
the  aubergiste , intending  to  prosecute  the  inquiry  further  at 
Rouen.  I will  not  hazard  fatiguing  the  reader  by  detailing 
the  result  of  any  more  of  my  investigations,  but  it  is  curious 
enough  that  at  Ivetot,  about  four  leagues  from  Barentin  (to 
an  ancient  chateau  near  which  place  I had  been  directed  by 
mine  host),  I met  with,  amongst  a parcel  of  scattered  furni- 
ture collected  for  public  sale,  the  portrait  of  an  old  Norman 
warrior,  which  exactly  resembled  those  of  my  great  grand- 
father, Colonel  Barrington,  of  Cullenaghmore  ; but  for  the 
difference  of  scanty  black  hair  in  one  case,  and  a wig  in  the 
other,  the  heads  and  countenances  would  have  been  quite 
undistinguishable  ! I marked  this  picture  with  my  initials, 
and  left  a request  with  the  innkeeper  at  Ivetot  to  purchase  ic 
for  me  at  any  price  ; but  having  unluckily  omitted  to  leave 
him  money  likewise  to  pay  for  it,  the  man,  as  it  afterwards 
appeared,  thought  no  more  of  the  matter.  So  great  was  my 
disappointment  that  I advertised  for  this  portrait,  but  in  vain. 

I will  now  bid  the  reader  farewell,  at  least  for  the  present. 
This  last  sketch  may  by  some,  perhaps,  be  considered  super- 


PEDIGREE  HUNTING. 


485 


fluous  ; but  as  a pardonable  vanity  in  those  who  write  any- 
thing in  the  shape  of  autobiography,  and  a spirit  of  curiosity 
in  those  who  peruse  such  works,  generally  dictate  and  require 
as  much  information  respecting  the  author’s  genealogy  as 
can  be  adduced  with  any  show  of  plausibility,  I hope  I shall 
be  held  to  have  done  my  utmost  in  this  particular,  and  I am 
satisfied. 


THE  END. 


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